


Bleeding Hearts

by looking_for_wisdom



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/looking_for_wisdom/pseuds/looking_for_wisdom
Summary: Zoya has spent her life learning to survive a world of fairy tales. She knows better to rely on wishes and fate; those things only protected the nice girls, the ones all the stories were about. She was used to doing whatever gruesome task was needed to get by, but now, with her aunt’s life on the line, she has finally met a monster she’s struggling to beat. A monster that comes in the shape of a kind prince she can’t help to grow attached to.But that’s always been the case. The monsters are what you find when happiness is just within reach. But she’s strong and she won’t falter— she’ll do what’s needed, as she always has before, to save the only good woman she’s ever known. Even if it means plunging a knife into the heart of the first man she’s ever loved. Even if it means becoming a monster herself.
Relationships: David Kostyk/Genya Safin, Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky, Tamar Kir-Bataar/Nadia Zhabin
Comments: 14
Kudos: 88
Collections: Grishaverse Big Bang 2019





	1. A Deal With The Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Enormous shout out to my Grishaverse Big Bang Gang: @bucumber, @koelsong, @dregstrash, and @villainofthepiece who aided me during the writing process and created incredible pieces of art for this fic. I could not have done this without them. Working with this lovely group was an absolute honor and if you have found this fic and are not following all of them on tumblr I highly, highly recommend it. 
> 
> Please see tags for possible triggers. This fic is meant to be rather mild when it comes to darker subjects but still, read with care.

What becomes of the girls whose parents do not teach them unwavering kindness and whose fairy godmothers are not magic enough to keep them from harm? What becomes of the girls the slipper doesn’t fit and the prince does not steal away from drowning in cruelty? There is no happy ending promised at the close of their story. So they learn, learn to swim through the abuse and lift a sword themselves, lest they become another maggot filled body in the graveyard.

Zoya had read the kind of stories where young women overcame their evil stepmothers with their obedience and compassion. Unfortunately, Zoya had no stepmother, just one horrible regular mother who had birthed her and spent every moment after shaping her daughter into an equally horrible side character in someone else’s story. It wasn’t that she was immune to draw of fairy tales and their promises of futures with a prince who called her lovely, but not every girl had that in her cards. Zoya glanced over the hand she’d been dealt. She was not sweet or innocent enough to be the damsel in distress. The game of fate was rigged— with every girl who was saved from misery a hundred others suffered in her stead. 

Shivering but far too afraid to risk asking her mother for a place by the fire, the childish part of her hoped. Winter’s might be less harsh if she was not so alone and unloved. But compassion was a rationed resource, like medicine and wheat. It might have been nice to have, but girls with no one to fight for them had to choose their battles, and unlike bread, kindness didn’t keep her alive. 

Sabina Garin had been wealthy once, many years ago, and like most who had never seen sacrifice, she underestimated its sting. It was easy to be fearless when one had never felt real fear in the first place. 

When her father had passed his inheritance had been split equally between his two daughters. Lilyana, the eldest sister had invested in a plot of land at the edge of town where she kept a small garden and a chicken coop. She built a home there, selling vegetables and eggs in town when she was in need of money, and she was happy. 

With her own cut, Sabina enjoyed the same luxuries she had in her youth. Seeing no appeal in farm work the way her sister did she resided in the house that had belonged to her father. At nineteen she married a handsome man with nothing to his name but a winning smile, and for a while, she was happy as well. At least, until the debt hit. 

Marriage for love is an appealing prospect, but the stories never talk about the bloody endings. No one mentions the way he yells when the money runs out. No one mentions the way she hoards the few jewels she has left because they’re the only thing that makes her feel like herself. No one mentions when the house is taken and she’s bloated and raging from the parasite inside her but he is nowhere to be found.

Sabina’s episodes began not long into her pregnancy. With no trace of her husband and no place to stay but an abandoned stone cottage at the edge of town it wasn’t long before she became unpredictable. It was a miracle that the child made it to its due date in the first place, though one could say it would be the first of many times Lilyana Garin would come to her niece’s aid. 

She had offered her sister help on many occasions, but Sabina had repeatedly refused Lilyana’s generosity. Pride, after all, was the only thing she had left. When Sabina became a danger to herself, however, the older daughter could stay away no longer. Though Sabina had no way of paying the housemaid who had worked for her father, Lilyana ensured she stayed the nine months until the child’s birth, hiding knives from the expecting mother and restraining her hands when she desperately clawed at her body until the skin was nearly gone. For months Lilyana held her breath, praying that her sister might be stabilized and the child would survive. 

And against all odds, her prayers were answered. 

The midwife said the birth went by with relative ease. The mother and child both handled the process exceptionally well. The only oddity was when she asked the mother for a name. Sabina had only sneered. “Call it what you will. It makes no difference to me.”

For the sake of simplicity, the midwife had given the child a placeholder name of sorts, at least until her mother came to her senses. She’d call her Zoya, just until Sabina saw fit to name the girl herself. 

She never did. 

So perhaps if it had been Zoya’s mother who fell ill, she wouldn’t have agreed to the witch’s terms. She couldn’t have cared less for her absentee mother, but when a letter reached Os Alta it brought news of the closest thing to family she’d ever had. 

Her young cousin, Lada, had written of her mother’s condition-- Lilyana had grown feverish and weak. The town’s medics estimated she had two weeks to live.

Desperation had a strange way of sending people deep into the woods where good, honest people lost their morals somewhere in the darkness. It had a way of turning skeptics into the arms of witches. But when it came to saving Lilyana’s life, nothing was too high a cost. Kill the prince. Carve out his heart and leave his body bleeding on the floor. Zoya wasn’t a killer, but a few towns away one of the few good people left in the world was dying. Zoya would have given her soul away a thousand times if Lilyana lived. 

The main square of town jittered with anticipation. The feeling filled Zoya’s chest, clamping down on her lungs and stealing away her breath. Gossip was sweet on the lips of housewives and young maidens, like the juice of an apple after taking a bite. Zoya was no fool; she knew what was on their minds. A few months earlier, the young prince Nikolai had proposed-- but not to a distant princess or nobleman's daughter. He’d given the ring to an orphan girl with no prospects or riches. Faces lit with hope and perhaps a bit of envy whenever they spoke of the prince’s fiance. She’d been from a town just carriage rides away from Os Alta. It could have been any of them. But yesterday, news had come that the girl had left Os Alta for good, leaving the promises of riches and romance behind her. Not a single person could figure out why. 

She’d been given a shot at a storybook ending. Zoya wasn’t gullible enough to believe her life would have been perfect, but when she thought of what her own future held, even she couldn’t help a pang of irritation. She would have taken wealth in a heartbeat over her fate. She shifted the basket she carried up onto her shoulder, the weight of it exhausting her arm at a rapid pace. With her other hand she lifted her skirts in a futile attempt to keep the mud from seeping into the fabric as it dragged along the ground. As she walked she overheard elated conversations.

“They say she was beautiful-- hair like starlight and a smile like the sun. It’s surreal, honestly, that some everyday girl won over a prince. She must be quite something,” said a girl she’d met only in passing, to a young blonde woman at the baker’s stand. Then, with a cheeky smile, added, “Maybe I'll find myself a princess soon with my winning looks.” 

Across the way a middle aged woman shared her own thoughts on the matter with her daughter. “Perhaps if you spent less time fooling around that could have been us! We’d have been rich, you idiotic girl!—”

Despite herself, Zoya felt a familiar chill go down her back.

Tiny people, wrapped up in their tiny lives, bound to accomplish tiny things. For perhaps the first time ever Zoya envied them. At the end of the city’s main road, after dozens of wooden merchant stands and civilians homes, were the woods. Travel in Ravka was unavoidable, but most families stuck within the cities borders as much as possible. The forests on the outskirts of town were places of darkness and witchcraft beyond the understanding of the standard civilian. However, there were ways to make navigating the woods less dangerous. Old wives tales said to carry black tea leaves in one’s left shoe or bury a lock of hair in the dirt before beginning your journey. Most nonbelievers opted for a professional guide. 

Zoya had no guide as she found her way between the brush and trees, though, nor was her shoe supplied with tea leaves. Her travels through the woods were not a situation of point A to point B. 

Zoya intended to find a witch. 

An hour in, Zoya had acquired a multitude of new cuts up her arms from low hanging branches and nearly destroyed what was left of her skirt by snagging it on thorn coated weeds. She’d also come across at least fifteen new types of bug she’d never seen before and honestly could have gone her whole life without. Zoya had learned to hold her own against all sorts of dangers growing up in Pachina, but that didn’t make her any less disgusted by the grimes and grudge of the Ravkan forest. 

She dragged onwards, a cool sweat gathering on her forehead and regrets filling her mind. Of course— hundreds of people go missing every year without any explanation and yet the one time she goes looking for trouble the death forest decides to be a normal lot of trees. Typical. 

“Don’t know how to handle someone who doesn’t fear you? Is that it?” She called out to no one in particular. “I didn’t realize witches were such cowards.”

Or perhaps she was just a stupid child, looking for magic where it didn’t exist. Perhaps those people had simply been mauled and eaten by bears and she was the idiot trying to be the next. 

The sun passed over the sky as she became more and more hopelessly lost in a forest where she seemed to be the only inhabitant. Honestly, witches had no respect for willing customers these days. She only realized just how much time had passed when dusk began to fall. Night was coming, and she had no idea how to get back to the city. It was one thing to be in the forest during the light of day, but trapped in the darkness with no food or water was something else entirely. 

The moon shone a sickening white glare onto the black dirt floor, seeming to take all the pigment from her skin. Zoya hadn’t been afraid of the dark for many years, but there was something… off about the way the darkness felt here, as if it was alive and feeding on any sort of life. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and she tensed, waiting for something horrible but not knowing what. 

She stood, frozen, listening for any sound other than her own shallow breathing. But nothing moved, not even tree branches in the wind. She was alone. 

Which made it all the more terrifying when someone spoke. 

“What could possibly bring a lone girl to the woods at night?” said a molasses smooth voice from behind her. 

Zoya spun around and was greeted by a pale faced man with dark hair who was far too close for her to not have noticed his approach. Every instinct in her mind screamed to back up, but she forced her legs to stay in place. She would not be intimidated. She met the man’s void black eyes with a fearsome stare. “I’m searching for a witch with the kind of magic to help me,” she stated, voice like steel. “Tell me, would you fit that description?”

A sly smile curled across his face and sent a chill down her spine.

“That depends,” he crooned, “what can you offer me in return, Zoya Nazyalensky of Pachina?”

Zoya felt a certain sort of dread sink into her chest. There was something wrong with this man-- he knew things he shouldn’t. She should have been afraid, but a morbid part of her was drawn to it. 

She wondered, despite herself, what would it be like to be him? She’d never feel small with a power like that at her disposal. She’d never be made a fool of. For a moment, the swell of her envy almost overpowered her reason, but then she thought of Lilyana. She was not here to find a way to be rid of her own weaknesses. Zoya shook the initial fog of his presence from her mind and reminded herself that for once, she would not be selfish. 

“What is it you want?” she retorted.

His smile did not falter as he considered. He slipped past her, like an ink spill with legs, so that she had to turn to keep sight of his face. Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as he walked away from her, but just as she was about to call out for him to stop he paused and glanced back at her. “Well?” he asked. “Are you coming?”

Her mind was empty of a response, perhaps still caught up on the absurdity of what she was doing. Her legs, thankfully, had instincts of their own and carried her forward when he began walking again so she didn’t lose sight of him in the darkness. He led her through the trees, as if he was navigating a maze for which only he had the map. As lost as she’d already felt, it was nothing compared to the lack of an internal compass she had now. The forest had consumed her completely. 

This was insane. Her mind ran rampant with possibilities as the silence between them grew longer. She’d be murdered by this demon of the woods and no one would even hear her scream as he dismembered her. She should run while she still had the chance. 

Except, if she ran Liliyana died. 

So, she kept walking. They entered a clearing of land. At the center of the plot was a looming mansion of black stone and though Zoya was no expert on the woods, she had spent the day wandering its depths and knew for certain the building had not been there before. This man’s magic was dark, but it was also powerful-- she needed powerful. The dark haired man led her to the tall doorway of the structure and held open the wooden door. “We can discuss terms inside.”

She hesitated for just a beat. This could very well be the room in which he planned to butcher her and bake her liver into a pie. She considered this man she knew nothing about and what he was offering. If there was even the smallest chance he could help her, she had to take it. 

There was no going back. She stepped through the door frame and into the home of a witch.

Whatever she had expected, this was not it. She remembered the tale of witches with homes of candy to lure in naive children. She had thought she’d see cages filled with starving creatures and cobweb covered jars holding various gruesome substances. She had thought there would be a cauldron to brew potions that would cure dying aunts. To her surprise, though, there was nothing of the sort. The floors were a sleek black tile and the walls were covered in bookcases filled to the brim with titles in languages she didn’t understand. Golden lamps hung down from the ceiling, casting a warm light onto the sleek table in the center of the room filled with well kept paper and an ink well. Tapestries of the night sky made with painstaking care hung as the rooms most prominent decor. 

If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought she’d wandered into the home of one of Ravka’s most wealthy nobles. 

She swung around to face the man, who had been observing her carefully since her first step into the room. “First things first, who exactly are you?” She asked, eyes narrowed. 

“Names are a powerful thing, Zoya,” he answered as he walked towards the desk at the center of the room. Something about the way he moved reminded her of black silk. “For now, you can call me The Darkling.”

Her lips pulled together in a tight line and placed a hand on her hips. For a moment she considered calling him out on his pretentiousness-- what kind of title was “The Darkling”-- but she restrained herself. In the grand scheme of things his name hardly mattered, and angering him didn’t strike her as the best way to get what she wanted.

He took a seat at the desk and gestured to the chair directly across from him. Smoothing her skirt as she sat down, she felt almost like she was at a business meeting in the town square and not trying to make a blood deal. “I’ve heard that magic can do things science can’t. Buildings are created without any regard for physics and wounds that normally kill are healed in a split second,” she began, an authority in her voice that she hoped hid the fact there was no real power behind it. “My aunt is ill. The doctors say there’s nothing to be done, but that is the opinion of a medic, not a magician. Can you save her?”

A certain rage sparked within her when he didn’t look her in the eye. She didn’t have the time to waste on a man who could do nothing for her. She had already lost a day to the woods, and here he sat, unimpressed and hardly listening. Part of her wanted to get up and leave right then and there if he wasn’t going to give her request the dignity it deserved, but she stayed seated, waiting. 

He spoke then. “I can,” Zoya’s breath caught half way in her throat. Hope crawled into her lungs and left no room for breath, “but it will cost you.” 

“I don’t care,” she responded, not missing a beat. “I’ll trade my life for hers, just name the price.”

He wasn’t smiling, but Zoya could almost see the grin in his eyes and felt like she’d just walked into a hunter’s snare. “I know you’re afraid of me, Zoya,” he said, and though she wanted to insist that some stranger in the woods didn’t scare her, her words fell flat, “but I have known you for much longer than you believe. Your familiar with a blade, aren’t you?”

Zoya swallowed the lump rising in her throat and nodded. When she was young she’d studied swordplay when her mother was away. Soldiers left home to begin their training at fourteen in Ravka, and for a girl whose home had been anything but stable, it had been an appealing opportunity. The issue was, the army was for men only. She’d hoped they’d see her skill and immediately make an exception, but when she was finally old enough to enlist she’d been turned away at the gate. 

How this witch knew that was beyond her. “I believe we can help one another. For you, I will not only return your aunt to health, but also give you the chance to pursue your dream,” he continued. “All I ask in return is that you rid Ravka of what is standing in our way. The Lantsov line has held this country back far too long-- I plan to lead us into the future, and I’ll need a general by my side. The only thing you need to do is get rid of the old crook’s heir.”

Zoya could barely breathe. It was all too good to be true-- first he’d claimed he could help Liliyana and then he’d promised her what she’d dreamed of since childhood. She would have taken the deal in a heartbeat if he wasn’t asking her to commit treason in return.

“Vasily,” she breathed, but he only shook his head. 

“He’s not nearly competent enough to be a concern. Talents like yours should be spent on a real threat. The king’s second born, Nikolai, is much more clever than his brother,” said the Darkling. “I know you don’t trust me yet, but my intentions are good. You, of all people, have seen the state of this nation-- the hardship it’s people face. You and I are very similar: ambitious, strong, and intelligent. We can change things.”

She chewed her lip and shifted in her seat, weighing the pros and cons. Zoya was many things, but she wasn’t a murderer. 

At least, not yet. 

Her rejection from the army had allowed her to keep her hands blood free until now. It wasn’t that she had any compassion for the prince, but there was nothing noble about slaughtering an unknowing victim. The honor of serving her country and protecting her people against an enemy who would kill her if she didn’t end them first was vastly different than what he was asking her to do. 

In the end, the morality of the proposal didn’t matter. If it was one life to save another, Liliyana was more important. The only question was whether or not The Darkling had any credibility to his offer. It was true she barely knew him, but for the first time since she had first encountered him he seemed fully sincere. A tug in her gut told her he was right. She didn’t know if they were as similar as he claimed, but something deep inside her made her believe his love for Ravka was as real as her own. 

And if he was telling the truth about that, then he was probably true in his claim that he could heal her aunt, too. Or, at the very least, she had to believe it was true. She feared she would not be presented with another opportunity like this.

It was the best chance she had, even if it would make a killer out of her. She stared him down, taking in the room that had appeared from nothing. “I’ll do it.”

She could repent her sin later by aiding this man in his journey to lead Ravka into an age of prosperity. That was for later, though. For now, Zoya just needed a plan.

The Darkling smiled knowingly, but as far as she could tell it was not mocking. Looking away for only a moment, he pulled a quill from somewhere she couldn’t see and handed it to her. 

“Find your way into the castle and get close to the prince. Trust will make him foolish. If you need to contact me, use that quill. The ink will find its way back to me. When it is time to put the plan into motion I will contact you. Until then, keep your wits about you.”

“Wait--” she interrupted, afraid he’d simply dissipate after giving his orders. “How am I supposed to infiltrate the palace? They don’t just allow anyone inside.”

“Nikolai has been in need of a new Etherialki for a few weeks now,” he answered, unphased. She tried not to wonder what kind of spies he must already have under the Lantsovs’ noses to have that kind of information. “You will be filling the position.” 

The servants of the Lantsov family were divided into three orders: Coporalki, Etherealki, and Materialki. Coporalki had a tendency to remain in the palace. They were responsible for keeping the palace functioning properly and were trained in the art of medicine. Materialki was the class of any sort of specialist working within the Lantsov’s walls. From chefs, to tailors, to blacksmiths, each played their part in making up the artisans category. 

Etherealki were traveling companions to the royal family and whatever rich guest happened to be staying with them. They accompanied their charge from dawn till dusk, braving and complication of man or nature along the way.They were known to think on their feet to quickly amend any problem their employer might encounter. It was, without a doubt, the most fitting role for Zoya’s skill set.

“What about my aunt? She might not last long enough for whatever you’re planning to be ready.”

“There’s no need to worry-- deliver your end of our agreement and I swear to you that your aunt will live.”

He extended a hand towards her and she examined him one last time. Growing up, she’d been told to never trust witches, and here she stood, going into business with one. If life had taught her anything, it was that the worst monsters aren’t always supernatural in nature. For all intents and purposes, the Darkling seemed to have good intentions. More than that, he had the power to save her aunt. 

From every angle, Zoya came out of this deal with what she wanted. 

She held his gaze and took his palm in a firm handshake before gathering her things and heading back into town.


	2. Battle on the Snowy Peak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoya meets the prince :)

Draped in the blue Etherialki uniform she’d fished out of one of the launderer’s huts in town, Zoya strutted towards the castle at the center of the capital. She wished The Darkling had given her more details on how to actually infiltrate the palace but she supposed she would have to make due with whatever cryptic intel she had.

She imagined that this, like most things, would be a simple matter of feigned confidence. She kept her back straight and chin up as she walked, careful not to show how out of place she felt. The spiked towers of the Lantsov estate grew along the skyline as she approached, until she could make out each pattern from where the cobblestone walls ended and painted tips began. 

As expected, she spotted four guards stationed at the gates as the entrance came into view. Zoya paused for just a moment and sucked in a deep breath before facing her fate.

She kept her pace even as she approached, but just before she could cross through the threshold one of the armoured men, no doubt noticing they hadn’t seen her before, raised his hand for her to stop. 

“Pause,” he said. “What business do you have here?”

Based on the boredom in his voice, Zoya thought she could have told him she’d been looking for odorless poisons and he still would have let her by.

“I was told to find the Prince,” she explained, putting on her best impression of a handmaid. “I start as his personal Etherialki today.”

He was quiet for a moment and narrowed his eyes. An anxiousness rose in her stomach as she was hit with the fear she might be caught in her lie, but she stood her ground. “I’d prefer not to be late on my first day,” she added to break the extended silence. 

He shifted and her muscles tensed. “Fine,” he said, apparently deciding further interrogation wasn’t worth his time. “Proceed.”

She passed by him with a shallow release of her breath. Although she was glad to not be forced to further prove her identity she had to admit, it was a bit discouraging that men like him were the protectors of the country. 

When the Darkling’s plan was complete a change in security measures would be her first suggestion.

Inside the palace, she was struck by the sheer whiteness of it all. From floor to ceiling, the room was coated in white marble with golden trim accenting the space. At the end of the room, hung an enormous double eagle--the same one that sat at the center of the Ravkan flag. The main hall was so large that it made her feel a bit like a mouse in a human home, but despite its size the corridor was almost completely vacant of people.

It took her a moment to figure out why, but then she remembered a conversation she’d overheard in town. The Lunar ball was in a few weeks. Guests from all sorts of neighboring countries would attend, so it only made sense to cut down on palace visitors while the staff was trying to prepare.

Of those who still remained, one woman stood at the center of the room giving orders. She was in a red robe with brilliant ginger hair tied in a bun atop her head. Zoya recognized the uniform as Corpolalki. 

For a moment, she weighed her options. If the woman realized she wasn’t who she claimed, she’d be thrown out or possibly arrested. On the other hand, the palace was huge. She could probably spend three days wandering around without a trace of her target. 

In the end, she decided the opportunity to get directions outweighed the risk.

Walking up behind the woman, she tapped her shoulder.

Pardon me,” she began, shifting back into unfamiliar niceties. “My name is Zoya-- new hire. I was told to aid the prince. You wouldn’t happen to know where his Highness, Prince Nikolai, might be?”

The woman examined her for a moment, amber eyes studying her every feature. Zoya almost started to believe she was about to call her bluff when she finally extended her hand out.

“I’m Genya. I actually manage the palace staff, but I don’t recognize your name. In fact, I didn’t realize they were taking new hires at the moment?”

“I was only recently recruited-- I was told Nikolai was missing an Etherialki.”

“Is that so?”

“I assure you I fill all the usual credentials,” she continued. “I’m also combat trained, if that’s any consolation.”

Genya considered this. Zoya awaited her reply in anxious anticipation.

“Those bastards in the hiring department  _ never  _ tell me when they take on a new staff member,” Genya replied with an exasperated sigh, “I don’t even have a room prepared for you. There’s an extra bunk in my room, so that will have to do for now. As for Nikolai, he’s preparing for a trip. I’ll let him know you arrived, but I imagine he and David will be in that lab conspiring all day.” 

“David?” she asked.

“He’s the best Materialki in this city-- possibly the country,” Genya said, still sounding annoyed but the softening in her tone didn’t go unnoticed by Zoya. If it wasn’t so completely off topic she might have pried further, but instead she turned the conversation back to Nikolai.

“If the prince won’t see me, what should I do until I can introduce myself?” 

“I’ll bring you to my room so you can get settled in. After that, I would suggest preparing for cold weather.”

Zoya didn’t follow. “Pardon?”

“The trip the prince is going on is in the mountains. Now that you’re his assigned Etherialki, you’ll be traveling often. Consider this a trial run,” Genya answered, smiling slightly. She hid it well, but Zoya could tell she found her confusion amusing.  _ What have I gotten myself into,  _ she wondered to herself. 

“Well then,” Zoya answered, “I guess I’ll have to make a good first impression.”

* * *

Genya had done exactly what she’d promised. She’d prepared the extra bed for Zoya and instructed her to make herself at home before leaving to speak with the prince. She’d tried to be subtle, but there was a giddiness in her tone, presumably over the mysterious “David.” 

Not long after, Genya had returned, stating that Nikolai would be happy to have her in their party. So, the two of them had spent the remainder of their day searching for snow boots and a coat in the hopes Zoya wouldn’t be a frozen mass when she returned.

The sun had long set since then and Genya was fast asleep. By all accounts, Zoya should have dozed off hours earlier, too.

She hadn’t, though. Sleep hadn’t come easily for her, not since she was a child. She held the black feather quill the Darkling had given her earlier between her fingers, watching how the moonlight shining through her window reflected off of each dark tuff. It was hard to believe it was magic-- it hardly looked the part, after all. But it had to be. Why else would he have given her some inconsequential pen? 

It was difficult not to be a bit frustrated. She could have used a bit of magic in her life long before now. How many times had she begged for an escape from Pachina? She could practically touch the memory that flooded her senses.

Her mother stood before her, young and bitter as she had been when Zoya was a child. “The whore at the end of the road convinced the baker’s boy to wed her,” she stated. Zoya could hear the implications beneath the words and stayed silent.

Her mother continued. “Apparently, it was a shock he agreed-- he’d shown an interest in another girl. Any ideas who the first choice was, Zoya?”

Zoya did have an idea and by the sound of it, so did her mother.

The baker’s boy was eighteen and much larger than her. When Sabina was too tired to get food, which she often was, Zoya did it for her. When she stopped at the bakery he would stare-- like a wolf spotting its prey. He smiled like a wolf, too. Sharp and dangerous behind a harmless facade. Zoya knew the stories of girls who met wolves in the woods who said they would help them.  _ Are you lost?  _ they asked. They seemed so kind, and after all, most of the girls weren’t even thirteen. How would they find their way home through the woods? But those girls wouldn’t come back, and if they did, they were hardly girls anymore. What happened in the woods took that from them. 

Yes, the baker's boy was a wolf. He grabbed her arm one day saying he wanted to talk and tried to lead her to the edge of the woods where all the wolves took their prey. She’d bit him and ran. Zoya had only barely gotten away, but that hardly mattered to her mother. If she believed the baker’s boy had intended to propose then it no longer mattered what wolves did in the woods.

Zoya’s mother grabbed her arm now in the way he had a few days before but her grip did not try and fake gentleness. “Rotten child,” she sneered, “have you any idea what that union could do for us? I’d never have to work again!” 

Zoya thought it was best not to mention that Sabina  _ didn’t  _ work. Holding her tongue didn’t save her from being dragged kicking and screaming to the broom closet where she was shoved inside before her mother locked the door. She cried for hours, begging for someone--anyone-- to free her. She prayed for a fairy or a prince or even one of the witches that lived in the woods. 

But no one came. All the magic in the world just beyond the tree line, and yet years later it would be Lilyana who would save her, a woman with no power outside what any human could learn. 

Looking at the quill in her hands now she couldn’t help but feel that her witch had been late. Perhaps his plan would save other young girls, though. It would certainly save Lilyana. 

_ And saving Lilyana is enough,  _ she reminded herself. 

Turning over her wrist she scribbled a note down, not entirely sure what would happen. _ I’ve found the prince,  _ it read. The ink hovered on her skin for a moment before sinking into her cells and disappearing. 

A moment passed before a response appeared on the same wrist.  _ Gain his trust. Loyalty will make him foolish. _

This was the part where things began to get difficult. It seemed that the work never got easier, magic or not.

Reading over the words one last time, she pulled her sleeve down to cover the writing. As she rolled over to try to get some sleep before going into the mountains in the morning, Zoya thought that, though it made for a good show, magic might be a bit overrated. 

* * *

For the amount of money the Lantsovs had, Zoya would have thought they could pay for tonics to make their horse’s shit smell less… well, shitty. She had been hit with the stench the moment she entered the stables and hadn’t been rid of it since. 

They had set out in the early hours of the morning and by the time the sun had found its place high in the sky their party was well into the freezing mountains. 

The only positive note from the morning was that she finally had the chance to meet her target in person. He was, admittedly, handsome-- blonde hair and hazel eyes, not to mention the classy smile he flashed her when he introduced himself. 

Aside from herself, there were three people accompanying the prince. First were two Shu guards, one slender woman and a broad shouldered man. The woman was much more talkative than her counterpart, and it only took a few moments listening in on their conversation to figure out the two were siblings. Zoya couldn’t help being impressed that Nikolai had allowed a woman in his personal guard. It seemed things might have changed in the palace since she was fourteen. The third was a brunette in purple robes similar to her own-- Zoya figured he had to be David. In comparison to the Materilarki, the male guard never shut up.

_ Earn his trust.  _

Zoya had thought the instructions over and over as they rode. Strategically, she could see the appeal of the Darkling’s plan, and yet, all the same, she couldn’t see how to befriend the man she would eventually murder. It would have been one thing if the prince was more like the wolves from her hometown, but Nikolai was royalty. They didn’t normally make a habit of befriending the staff. 

As his Etherilarki she would still have plenty of opportunities to complete her end of the bargain but making small talk felt like a dead end. And, besides, she was hardly in the mood for pleasant conversation. Her legs ached from hours of riding and her clothes were soaked. 

It seemed, though, as they rode through the snowy expanse of the mountains, that Nikolai was intent to prove her analysis on royalty wrong. She had expected Nikolai to defer to any of his other companions, but to her surprise he slowed his horse to a lazy pace to keep in line with her. 

Zoya struggled to put on a polite smile. She was shivering in her saddle and the beast below her was taking every chance to ignore her authority. Nikolai, however, did not appear to notice. 

“Miss Nazyalensky,” he began, “I have to say, you are in for quite a show this afternoon.” 

Zoya raised an eyebrow at him. “Where I come from, invitations like that are a sure way to get yourself killed.”

She had meant it to be a neutral joke, but her tone was more caustic than she had intended. He was not dissuaded, however. In fact, the grin that spread across his face told her he found it incredibly amusing. For someone who was just dumped by his fiance, he was much cheerier than she had expected. 

Despite herself, she wondered what kind of girl had passed up the opportunity to marry a prince. Nikolai was plenty wealthy, a more pleasant option than Vasily from what she’d seen so far, and, objectively, quite good looking. Whoever she was, Zoya would have paid to see the look on her face when she realized what she’d passed up.

“It’s nothing like that,” he laughed. “Humor me, though, will you?” 

She nodded for him to continue. With her consent, he began again, “Have you ever encountered magic?”

Zoya swallowed, but maintained a neutral expression. 

_ He doesn’t know anything. There’s no way he knows anything.  _

Straightening her back the best she could while still holding on to the reins for dear life, she lied, “I can’t say I have, Your Highness.”

A flash of surprise took ahold of Nikolai’s face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Zoya noticed, with a pang of frustration, how nice his cheeks looked tainted pink by the cold. “Nikolai.”

“What?”

“My first name is fine. No need for formalities.” 

Zoya quirked an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “Nikolai, then. Why do you ask?” 

“Well,” he grinned a horribly charming grin, “I believe you’re in for quite the surprise.” 

Even for a cynic like her, it was hard not to become a bit excited-- his anticipation was contagious. She wasn’t sure how he could be so optimistic in the bitter cold of the mountains, having been traveling for hours on uncomfortable horseback, but Nikolai seemed to have no problem with it. 

“That’s awfully ominous,” she deadpanned, “care to elaborate-- “ 

A yell cut her off mid sentence. 

It had come from one of the twins. The girl shouted a word of warning to the group, gesturing with an axe she’d pulled from her sheath towards one of the pillars from the rocky cliff. Zoya soon found what caused the commotion: a slender mountain lion bared its teeth from it’s stone perch above them, glaring down at the clearing where they rode. By the look of it, the cat was getting ready to pounce. 

Except for the small knife she’d brought with her in case the Darkling gave the order to complete her task, she was defenseless. She certainly didn’t have anything that would be of use against a wild animal. 

Zoya didn’t think. Next to her, Nikolai’s hand hovered above the hilt a sword that hung at his waist. She didn’t know if his hesitation was a result of cowardice or calculation, but Zoya was faster. She reached for the blade, only giving the shocked Nikolai a passing glance as she catapulted off her horses back. She’d fight better on her own two feet. 

It was in that moment the lion attacked, leaping from its position above them onto the axe woman’s brother. His sister was ready to act and free him of the creature’s clawed grasp, her horse startled at the cat’s sudden movement. She lost her grip and went tumbling back into the snow.

Zoya sprinted towards the creature, blade like a natural extension of her arm. It was thrilling to have a sword in hand. The animal was still on top of the Shu man, digging its sharp teeth into his skin. In this moment, however, it was distracted and outnumbered. Zoya thrusted her weapon forward, into the mountain lions shoulder blade. She hadn’t wanted to kill it, only injure it enough to pass safely, but she realized her misjudgment when it spun towards her, seething with pained fury. Blood ran down its front leg. 

She scrambled backwards, pointing the sword in front of her as a makeshift shield. The creature raced after her and she had to roll to narrowly avoid being gutted. She was back on her feet hoping she could outmaneuver the beast, but it was still faster than her. 

When it charged again, instinct took over. Her arms played defense without even thinking. It was strong when it lunged, all she had to do was point the blade in it’s direction.

It was over in seconds. She’d been knocked to the ground with the force of the attack, but the lion went still, skewered on her blade.

Zoya sighed, rolling out from beneath the creature’s weight and removed the sword from the unmoving mountain lion. She’d always hated killing animals, but she supposed this couldn’t be avoided. 

As the adrenaline left her mind she was able to take in her surroundings. The axe girl stood in fighting position, shocked to find no threat awaiting her. Her brother, a bit bloodied but free of any lasting injuries gaped towards her. Behind her was a slightly paler David, and the prince. Nikolai rested a hand where his missing sword should have been and Zoya felt oddly like she was being examined.

“You’ve got quite a knack for swordplay,” said the woman, the first to recover from her shock. She extended a hand towards Zoya, who had been knocked to the ground with the weight of the cat’s body. Zoya took the offered help and found her footing. “Name’s Tamar. The oaf over there is Tolya. You should spar one of us some time if you really want a run for your money.” 

Though Tamar’s axe had been properly sheathed by now, she got the feeling it’d serve as a worthy opponent. “I might just take you up on that offer.” 

Glancing down at her own weapon, she figured it was time to return it to the owner. Nikolai, who had dismounted his horse at some point between her initial thievery and now, was on his way towards them. She dropped the borrowed sword at his feet. “Taking a prince’s blade isn’t a punishable offense, is it?”

Nikolai laughed as he picked the sword up from the snow. “No, but saving a prince’s life might be enough to get the royal blacksmith to make you one of your own. What do you say, David?” 

David stood to attention and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Ah, well. I suppose so.” 

Zoya examined her blood soaked robes. “My boss would probably be more appreciative of a uniform replacement.” 

“We can probably make that happen, as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! Sorry about the wait between chapters -- school is back in session and I'm already back on the grind. I'll try to get the next one up before the end of the week :)
> 
> Comments on the last chapter were so kind and I loved reading them, you guys are all awesome!


	3. Bed Ridden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikolai insists on a bit of self care

The rest of the journey was relatively calm in comparison. Nikolai rode next to her the rest of the way, occasionally asking questions about who’d taught her to fight, where she was from, and why she hadn’t gone into sword fighting professionally. She tried to be honest when she could. After all, lies were more believable if they were coated in small truths. More than that, though, Nikolai proved to be pleasant company. Yes, he was a bit eccentric at times, but he asked questions with the full intent of listening, which was more than she could say for a large majority of men. 

When they arrived in the deepest part of the mountain’s summit, he offered her a smile and slowed his pace to be in line with David. The two of them dismounted, and Zoya and the twins followed not long after. 

They spoke in hushed voices, like teenage school girls spreading rumors. Zoya found a dry spot on the ground to sit alongside Tamar and Tolya. By their faces, it seemed that they were aware of what was to come, but no matter what she tried they insisted on keeping her in the dark. Eventually, she gave up on prying and settled on discussing battle strategies. 

After what felt like hours of set up, Nikolai cleared his throat and the party went silent. His signature smirk greeted them. “Friends and colleagues,” he began, as if addressing a large crowd rather than a select few servants, “Consider yourselves honored to see the first trial of our newest endeavor.”

Tamar leaned towards Zoya. “If this is anything like his last creation he should be honored we agreed to come back.”

Before Zoya could ask what had happened with his last invention, Nikolai interrupted, calling across the clearing to David. “Let them rip!” 

On cue, there was a spark as something shot into the sky. It moved so quickly Zoya could barely follow its path. Suddenly, it set ablaze for just a moment, brilliantly bright, and extended outward like a star combusting. 

Just as quickly as it had happened, it disappeared. 

Zoya glanced around her and was surprised to see that her shock was solitary among her companions. She was not impressed easily, but looking at the others it was like they had seen something banal-- no, disappointing. 

“Well,” Nikolai said, “It’s a shame but I suppose it’s back to the drawing board, David.” The two of them gathered their supplies and prepared to ride back down the mountain. At Zoya’s expression, though, the prince paused to explain. 

“David and I have been working on creating a light without flame for months now, but every test ends the same. The spark is far too fragile-- it goes out just after it ignites.” 

Zoya analyzed the concept in her mind. Light without fire had been the dream of inventors all over the world for decades, but none had succeeded. It would mean saving resources, less homes caught ablaze in the night, and an advantage over the enemies who attack in the cover of darkness. The fact they had been able to accomplish a moment of this miracle was not just a shock. It was impossible. 

At least, for the common man it was impossible. 

_Have you ever encountered magic?_ He hadn’t asked because he was on to her. He’d asked because she was about to witness some. Magic, even in the form of basic potions, was a dangerous game in Ravka. People feared what they did not understand-- it was why witches, real witches hid in places like the Ravkan forest. 

Nikolai and David were not afraid of the unknown though-- they were embracing it, and with it they were taking the limits of technology to a new level. 

Seeing that Zoya was already putting their ploy together, Nikolai confirmed her thoughts. “The combination of magic and science is the best way to push the boundaries of both,” he explained, “With David’s knowledge of magic and my studies of the most current abilities of technology anything seems possible.” He glanced at the remnants of his failed experiment. “Well, anything as long as you have enough dedication.”

Zoya did not give her interest away lightly, but as the team mounted their horses for the long ride home she couldn’t hide her fascination with this bunch. For so long Ravka had been stuck in the past. However, change might just be in sight. It was exciting to think with a foot in the future lives could actually improve. With some actual dedication to change perhaps the culture would shift as well. Perhaps she would be one of the last girls whose old fashioned and desperate mothers would try to sell to the highest bidder. 

But after the excitement came a bit of dread. It was possible that Nikolai was not as awful as she’d assumed based on his bloodline. 

When she returned to her dorm late that night she was still soaked with melted snow and riddled with moral contradictions. After today, she had a hunch putting an end to the prince would not be as easy as she thought. Still, she would not allow her conviction to falter after one good day. Fair or not, she owed more to Lilyana than she did to a man she’d only just met. 

And besides, since when was life fair? 

  
_Fate is not always heroic,_ she reminded herself before dozing off to sleep, _but I am no hero._

_***_

She woke in the morning still a bit damp and feeling as if she’d been hit with a carriage. Genya stood dressed, as pristine as ever and staring at Zoya with worry. “You look horrid. Did you forget to change into dry clothes?”

She had. 

“I’m fine. I simply overslept,” Zoya said as she stood and was hit with a wave of nausea. 

“You’re ill. I’ll inform Nikolai you won’t be joining him to day,” stated Genya, matter of factly. She wasn’t incorrect, but Zoya had no way of knowing how much time she’d have to get close enough to the prince to stab him on command. She wouldn’t waste a day sick. Stripping off her clothes from the night before, she ignored Genya’s protests and prepared for the day. “Zoya you’re going to keel over!”

“I’m not,” retorted Zoya, though if she were honest she was not as sure as she sounded. “We’ll both be late to work if we don’t hurry, though, and I won’t ruin my chance of perfect punctuality because of a dispute over my health.” 

Genya looked thoroughly unimpressed. “I’ve only known you for a day, but has anyone ever told you you’re horribly stubborn?” 

“Yes, it’s come up before.” Zoya slipped past her, not sure how much longer her legs would support her and not willing to waste that valuable time. She heard an exasperated sigh from behind her but pushed forward towards Nikolai’s bedchambers. 

It took longer than she would have liked to find them and her faintness had only worsened by the time she arrived.

She knocked on the wood door and steadied herself against the frame. It took a moment for Nikolai to answer, but when he did, she was met with the same concerned expression she had left behind. Where was that Pachina, “every man for themselves” attitude when she needed it? Or maybe that had just been her mother. 

“You look awful,” he exclaimed. 

“So I’ve been told. Were you planning to give me a job today or just insult my appearance?”

Though he didn’t seem convinced she was well enough to work, he seemed to catch on that she was in no mood to discuss her condition. 

“I suppose you could come along for my meetings this morning. I need to meet with the general and discuss some plans with Vasily, but…”

He trailed off and Zoya did not allow him the chance to finish that doubt. “Stalk you around the castle. Got it. When do we leave?” 

So much for being pleasant. Her tone would have been enough to put off anyone's concern, but, once again, Nikolai was proving he was not just anyone. His eyebrows were furrowed together but he extended the door so she could enter all the same. “I just need to gather a few notes and we should be ready to begin,” he said, looking about as convinced as Genya had when she’d departed. 

Zoya’s body writhed with feverish heat but she’d be damned if she let that stop her. Nikolai turned to a stack of paper’s lying on his bed, posing the question of whether or not this man ever really slept. “There should be a book on the desk-- would you mind grabbing it?”

Book seemed like an understatement. By the looks of it, the thing could have contained a census of all the people in Ravka since the country was established. Her arms felt weak, as did, well, her everything, but she reached to pick up the textbook anyway. She made it about two paces before she was hit with a wave of dizziness and nearly dropped the book in an attempt to steady herself. 

Faster than she could blink, Nikolai was on his feet. “Saints, are you all right?” he questioned, reaching for her, perhaps to take the book from her or give her an extra bit of stability. 

Whatever the case, her brain screamed “trap.”

She scrambled backward and the sudden movement brought the spinning world upon her again. Nikolai shouted something, but she didn’t have the chance to figure out what. She’d lost her footing and, suddenly, she was falling. The book slipped from her grip and the prince reached to catch her. 

Zoya didn’t reach back, and, as if she’d just walked into the forest at night, the world was dark. 

\--

When she came to, Zoya didn’t know where she was. The ceiling above her was lined with golden accessories, much too nice to be the roof above her and Genya’s dorm. Her first instinct was to sit up, to get out as quickly as possible. Gaining the prince’s trust could wait until she was in control of the situation again. Currently, she felt as helpless as a child, and helplessness was the first step in being caught. Had she mumbled in her sleep while she was out? Had they seen the writing on her arm?

She nearly flung herself out of bed, but the quickness of her action resulted in an overwhelming pain in her head. She froze, clutching her temples until the feeling passed and her vision cleared. When it did, she was met with the last thing she’d expect. Across from her there were no guards ready to arrest her for treason, there was only Nikolai’s desk and his notes from earlier completely abandoned on the ground. And standing next to the papers was what appeared to be a concern ridden prince and Genya, answering his questions. 

“She’ll be fine. The knock to the head she took on the way down is more to be concerned about than her fever. She should recover completely by tomorrow as long as she rests, though, I think that will be significantly more difficult to get her to do now.” 

Genya met her eyes and Nikolai followed her gaze. No chance of making an escape now that they both knew she was awake, so instead she simply said, “You flatter me, Genya. And you’re right. I’m not going to sit around useless all day. 

“If you try to go back to work I’d put money on you blacking out again.”

“That’s a bet I’m willing to take,” Zoya fired back.

Genya looked as if she planned to argue further, but Nikolai cut her off. “Actually, Genya, I believe Miss Nazalensky is correct.” Genya almost turned to scold him before remembering her place, but Nikolai simply met her disbelief with that signature sly grin and Zoya felt her win slip away. “I’ll put her to work. She can assist me in going over and reorganizing my paperwork. No movement needed.”

“Didn’t you mention you had about twelve meetings this afternoon?” she demanded, his smugness inspiring her irritation once again. 

“Something came up,” he shrugged. 

Genya mirrored his smile, apparently getting a kick out of her situation. “It seems like you have your orders, then, Zoya,” she said with false resign. “I’ll let you get to business then. Just try to get me my roomate back in one piece, Your Majesty.” 

“I’ll do what I can.”

Just before the door Genya paused and glanced back at the prince. “How was the experiment?”

“If I believed in failure I would tell you it was a disaster, but instead I will opt for the term “delayed success,” he answered. 

Genya looked as if she had something more to say, but retreated not long after with a simple, “Tell David I wish you both luck.”

And so she was alone with the second son of the king. In his bed.

If she had any room for shame left in her she might have been embarrassed, but discomfort wasn’t nearly as productive as anger. 

“Well then, if you’re going to keep standing there looking so content with yourself over trapping me here, at least hold up to your end of the bargain,” she scowled. “Hand me a stack of papers.” 

He did as she asked, but not without an infuriating laugh. Her eyes skimmed the writing at the top of the stack and her heart skipped a beat. It was an account of the strategies the military planned to use to thwart Fjerdan invasion from the north, signed by the general himself. It was almost impressive, but the general happened to be an idiot.

Before she could think better of it she started, “This buffoon is going to get us killed--”

She stopped herself, but it was too late. Nikolai had looked up from his own stack and was staring her down with those psychoanalyzing eyes she couldn’t figure out. If she had to guess, though, that he might be thinking about how incredibly improper it was for a servant to comment on a royal’s mail. 

Before she could backtrack with some half-assed lie, he spoke, “You’re correct. Do you have a better idea?”

At first she thought he might be mocking her, but his expression was earnest. If it was a trap, then she supposed she would be walking right into it. All the same, she couldn’t help correcting incompetence. “He wants to lead an attack on one of their military encampments as a display of power, but displays of power only work if you _know_ you can win. A child’s guide to war strategy could tell you that. 

“Our army is in no shape to pull something like that off, we’re low on men as it is, and worst of all, with this plan we give the Fjerdans the advantage-- familiar terrain.

“The problems in the north need a more diplomatic approach,” she continued. “They may not like us but we’re still the number one source of metal on this continent. If we withhold resources, perhaps establish a small blockade so they can’t turn to Novi Zem, we can use it as leverage. If they attack, we don’t sell. Is that not obvious?”

Nikolai gaped for a beat, and she wondered if she overstepped, but soon he was back with that cunning grin. 

“Actually,” he answered, ”Those were my thoughts exactly. You really know your strategy.” 

She hardly knew how to respond to the compliment. 

When it became evident that tall tales would be no help in getting her out of Pachina, she had turned to the works of great Ravkan generals. She had learned the value of a good blockade from the memoir of General Juris. There had been very little interest in a woman who spouted off war stories rather than sweet remarks, so in the end it seemed her studies were not particularly popular.

“There wasn’t a lot to do in my home town, so I learned my way around a battlefield,” she shrugged.

“I see,” he replied. He rummaged through some letters and diagrams left on his desk for a moment and then emerged from the mess with another report signed by the general. “Do me a favor and look this over. My father intends to take action against Shu Han, but his plan is flawed and I can’t for the life of me figure out a better approach. Maybe you’ll think of something I haven’t.” 

She took the plan from him cautiously. When she had tried to join the army at fourteen she’d been mocked and laughed at. Now she was being asked to correct the general’s work. 

Is this what the Darkling had been offering when he’d offered her a place at his side? She had hardly thought of the extra incentive he had given since that day in the woods— Lilyana was the number one priority— but now a long buried ambition swelled within her.

Once again, she was struck by the prince’s kindness. It was nice to be appreciated and she feared if she wasn’t careful she’d be blinded by the sensation. 

She couldn’t help it, though. She read over the notes and got straight to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A somewhat shorter chapter today, but the next update will be on the longer side to (hopefully) balance it out. Might just go ahead and post twice today-- who knows?


	4. Duels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoya's ten step guide on how to get arrested

Even when her illness had passed, Nikolai did not hesitate to ask for her opinions on diplomatic predicaments. Zoya was happy to provide her input, after all, she had a lot to say and a very small number of opportunities to say it. 

She was invited to accompany him on all sorts of excursions, many of which she felt would benefit more from a friend than a servant. Sometimes David was there, or Tolya and Tamar, and she began to recognize that this was not just Nikolai’s team of staff. 

They were a gathering of ambitious individuals. They spoke as equals, bouncing ideas off of one another and asking Zoya for her thoughts. 

It became apparent that Nikolai didn’t particularly approve of the state of his country. Now and then he’d reference Alina, the girl who had recently rejected his proposal. It seemed that she had been a part of this group of revolutionaries when she had been in Os Alta and her missing presence was a noticeable struggle for all of them. Still, they weren’t dissuaded from their cause, Nikolai would give the details of high security meetings he was allowed to attend due to his title, and they’d strategize ways to improve upon the ideas the king and his advisers produced. 

It wasn’t just foreign affairs that interested Nikolai and his friends, either. The poverty ridden citizens of Ravka had been ignored by their leadership for years, and it wasn’t a problem that could be fixed in a few weeks, but Zoya was still shocked to see it being considered at all. 

Zoya had seen the effects of government neglect when she was young. Children had starved in the town she’d grown up in. Adults had committed atrocities to be free of the grasps of debt. She wouldn’t wish that kind of youth on her worst enemy. 

“A system needs to be put in place to force employers to support their workers. Nothing will change without that,” she’d butted in one day, hardly even thinking about it. 

Across from her Nikolai grinned and Tamar let out an impressed grunt. “Well then, we should probably fix that.”

They went on like that for hours; a council of the people plotting against the senate who gathered just a few walls away, trying to make their country better. 

About a week into her stay, Nikolai asked her to accompany to the barracks.

“Am I going to be given any idea on what you plan to do there?” she questioned, placing a hand on her hip.

Nikolai had given her one of his usual proud looks. “Where’s the fun and that.”

She rolled her eyes and cursed his theatrics, but followed.

She hadn’t been to the military base in Os Alta since she was fourteen, when she’d snuck out of her home while her mother was gone and traveled by foot to the capital to demand a place in the army. It hadn’t changed much since she’d last seen it. The walls were lined with armor and finely forged weaponry as decor. 

Any soldier worth his title would use their own equipment before looking twice at the pieces surrounding her. Still, that didn’t make the place any less intoxicating. 

She could feel the adrenaline pulsing through her veins. The fighting instincts she’d spent so many years trying to hone awakened from their slumber. 

Many years ago, she’d dreamed of being at home here. She hated that even now, she couldn’t quite shake that aimless hope. 

“This way,” said Nikolai with a coy smile that meant he had something big in store. He led her through a small hallway and Zoya felt a few beads of sweat bloom on her brow. 

When she stepped through a looming doorway at the end of the hall she quickly figured out the source of the growing heat. Inside the room was an enormous hearth, filling the room with embers. A wide chimney was perched above it serving as the only outlet for the smoke tinged air. A burly man stood over the flames, holding a hammer in one hand and a blazing red piece of unshaped metal in the other. When he saw them he stiffened and stood at attention. 

“You’re Majesty, to what do I owe this pleasure?” He asked, voice low and gravely. 

Nikolai wasn’t fond of those sort of formalities, but he let it slide and got straight to business. “A friend of mine told me he’d sent a project I’d requested down to the forge to be finished. I’m here to check on it’s progress.”

The man nodded, “Ah, yes. That Materialki from a few days ago.” He moved to the back of the room and rummaged around a stand of finished blades before producing a slender sword with a silver hilt. The craftsmanship was some of the best she’d ever encountered. “I believe it is complete, that is, if it meets your satisfaction, my prince.”

The blacksmith offered Nikolai the sword, but he didn’t take hold of it. Instead, he glanced back at her and said, “Well? Give it a try.” 

She hesitated only a moment before grasping the weapon in her hands. It was light, much lighter than what she’d used against the mountain lion. He’d only seen her fight once and yet he was able to request a sword so well suited to her needs.

But, then again, that wasn’t true, was it? She’d sparred with Tolya and Tamar a thousand times since then, she just hadn’t realized he was watching. 

He’d been paying close enough to know her fighting style, too. Fast, precise, and using her small size to her advantage. She hated the awkwardness of heavy armor and oversized weaponry. The sword in her hand, small but lethal, was undeniably hers. 

“It’s…” she struggled to find the right words, still flabbergasted. “It’s very well balanced.” 

Nikolai laughed as she shook herself of her shock. She would not lose her composure again. 

“Thank you,” she said, first to the blonde and then to the blacksmith with a polite nod. If he was surprised to have made a sword for a woman, he didn’t show it. Zoya supposed Tamar’s axes had to come from somewhere. 

After thanking the man again, Nikolai made his exit. “Come on. Let’s see what you can do with it.”

She followed him outside, into the courtyard. Nikolai pulled one of the extra blades from its perch and weighed it in his hand. “This should serve nicely,” he observed and raised it into ready position. 

Zoya cracked a small smile. “Am I being challenged to a duel by the Prince of Ravka?” 

“Afraid you’ll lose?” he taunted. 

“Not at all. I’m afraid I'll win. I’d hate to hurt your royal feelings.”

“You underestimate me, dearest Zoya. I don’t intend to be taken out so easily.” 

He charged her. 

She was moving in an instant, blocking his blows and sliding out of the way of his advances. It didn’t take long to find her way onto the offensive. She expected it to put her at an advantage, but Nikolai quickly found his own niche. 

If she had learned anything about Nikolai in the last week, it was that he was a master of watching, waiting, and acting accordingly. He defended against her with ease, biding time until he had an opening to turn the tables. He was a wildly different opponent to Tamar, or even Tolya. 

But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t win. She glanced at the tufts of dirt and grass around them, searching until-- finally, she spotted her mark. 

She unleashed a flurry of strikes, quicker than she ever could have accomplished with a borrowed blade. Nikolai matched her, deflecting each blow before she could make contact. She didn’t falter, though, flying towards him as he back-stepped to match her movements. The two of them probably could have kept up that chrade all day, neither managing to land a hit. 

That is, they could have kept it up if Nikolai hadn’t been distracted enough by her intensity that he overlooked his surroundings. 

“Wha--” Nikolai yelped and Zoya lunged. As the prince stumbled over the dip in the ground she’d been forcing him towards, she took the opportunity to shove him in the chest with the hilt of her blade, sending him tumbling to the ground.

Sword still in hand, Nikolai’s back was in the dirt, and at his throat was the tip of her blade.

“I told you I’d win,” she smirked. 

Nikolai being Nikolai, there was no bitterness in his expression. The defeat seemed to fascinate him as much as his strange flames on the mountain or her battle strategies. 

“Huh, I suppose you’re right. Next time I won’t go easy on you,” he answered. 

Zoya scoffed. “Go easy on  _ me _ ? What kind of ridiculous excuse--”

“Halt!” boomed a voice across the yard. Zoya spun around, only to be greeted with the sight of three arrows aimed at her skull. Without wasting a beat, she dropped her sword and put her hands up. 

In a split second she was surrounded, arms bound behind her back by one man, another still stationed with his bow raised, and the third, the one who’d spoken, right in front of her. 

She recognized the latter. He hadn’t changed much since the last time they’d spoken, though she recalled him having a bit more hair. Decorated uniform and an expression that was difficult not to punch off his face, General Ivan, leader of Ravka’s army, stood before her. 

“You’re under arrest for the attempted murder of his highness, Prince Nikolai, “he began, droning off her rights as she gave her best attempt not to laugh. “Any attempts to resist arrest will be met with your immediate disposal--”

“General!” said a familiar voice from behind her. Back on his feet and looking more disheveled than she’d ever seen him, was Nikolai. He moved between her and Ivan and, though she knew it was him, she almost didn’t recognize the person in front of her. That glint of humor that was always hidden behind his eyes was gone, leaving someone who looked a bit more like the King’s son behind. He looked like she’d imagined he would when she’d first met him days ago. “Put down your weapons.”

“But, my prince, this criminal was attempting to assassinate you!”

“It was a dual,” he stated, more authoritative than she’d ever heard him. “One that I instigated and one that I lost fairly. She’s committed no crime.”

Her nails dug into the soft palms of her hands. She couldn’t stand this.

She could take care of herself-- she always had. Even if she knew Nikolai was the only one the General would believe, it still filled her with an unwanted helplessness to have him come to her rescue. Maybe that’s what she had been waiting for years ago, but not now. She’d learned to depend on herself and  _ she  _ never let herself down. 

Like someone actively trying to get herself shot, she yanked her wrists free of the soldiers grip and stared Ivan down. A long buried hatred rose without her realizing. “I have harmed nothing but your dear prince’s pride,  _ general _ . I do, however, find it incredibly ironic you think I am capable of such things given you reputation.” 

The Nikolai she knew was back now, looking at her like she was being and idiot but he couldn’t help but be a bit impressed, anyways. She couldn’t have cared less about her company in that moment, though. Years ago she had held her tongue, and she did not intend to do so now. 

The General was indignant. “I’m sure I have no idea to what you are referring.”

“Oh, so am I,” she shot back, “Considering your juvenile take on strategy I can’t imagine you’d have room to remember me in that thick skulled head of yours.”

“Zoya…” warned Nikolai, but it was too late to stop now. 

“ _ An incompetent girl has no place in my army _ , if I recall correctly,” she watched as recognition washed across his face. “Ah, the hypocrite understands now. Tell your men to stand down and I’ll demonstrate just how competent I am in front of your subordinates.” 

“Girl,” he said, voice threatening in a way that only made her more furious, “you are on dangerous ground.”

“You have  _ no  _ idea--”

“Enough!” announced Nikolai from beside her. “General, call off your men! Zoya,  _ calm down _ .” 

Shocked to hear the prince raise his voice, both she and the general went silent, though she continued to quietly fume. Calmer now, Nikolai continued, “General Ivan, this is Zoya Nazayalensky, the war strategist I spoke to you of. My hope was that you two might be able to work together but it seems I was mistaken.”

“Women are prohibited from assisting in military affairs,” he retorted, incredulous. 

“Yes, I am aware, thank you,” Nikolai deadpanned. “We will continue this conversation at a later date. At that time you can continue to state the obvious, but until then both of you will compose yourselves. I apologize for the intrusion. We will be going now.”

“I’m  _ not  _ finished,” she growled at him, annoyed and a tad betrayed. The look he shot her in response was enough to send her into temporary submission.

“Yes. I do believe you are,” he stated. “We’re leaving, Zoya.”

She wanted to argue, but the unfamiliar anger in his expression made her lose her voice. Even more ridiculously enraged after being told what to do, she followed him as he led her off the grounds of the barracks, quietly, until they were out of earshot. 

Then, when they were alone, she let loose. 

Fists balled up so tightly her knuckles were white, she stepped in front of him. He stopped in his tracks as to not walk straight into her, looking less than amused. She didn’t care. 

“I might work for you, but I can make my own choices” she started, the words dripping with disgust. 

When he replied, Nikolai matched her volume. “Choices that get yourself killed?”

She swallowed, hard. “Do  _ not  _ speak to me like I’m some idiot--”

“You certainly could have fooled me!” he cut her off, “I’ve never seen you do anything so stupid! It was like I didn’t even know you!”

“You don’t know me!” she exclaimed, voice now a full shout, and for a moment she thought she saw something like hurt flash across his face, but what did her expect? They’d only been introduced a few days ago-- he didn’t get to claim that he understood her.

_ Good _ , she thought,  _ now we’re on the same page _ . “You don’t know a single thing about my life. How could you? I’d give my left arm that you’ve never even seen a place like where I grew up. Don’t tell me I’m overreacting when you’re more ignorant than the General!”

She wasn’t being fair. She knew that. More than that she knew she was about to lose the trust she’d worked so hard to earn-- and with it her chance to save Lilyana. But she couldn’t stop. She felt like snow in an avalanche, tumbling violently forward no matter how hard she tried to slow down. “You think you can just sit me in front of the man who ruined my life with no warning and expect me to play the civil maid? I’m not a pawn in whatever game it is you’re playing!”

_ Pull it together, Zoya, you’re about to ruin everything--  _ “Perhaps if you and you’re father cared about the people you’re supposed to protect you would have realized that.”

He was silent, then. She knew she’d gone too far as soon as she’d said it. She stood by their claim they didn’t know each other, but she’d seen first hand how Nikolai dedicated every moment to being a better man than his father. He was trying to help his people and she’d told him it was all for nothing. 

Unwelcomed guilt gnawed at her as the fury drained out of her, having said what she needed to say. She should apologize-- the smart thing to do was apologize. If she did she might still have an opportunity to protect her aunt…and to hurt him again, but--   
  


“Zoya,” he said quietly and her eyes shot up to his face where a sheepish smile she’d never seen before was painted on his lips. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. I should have warned you. Keeping you in the dark was wrong of me and…” 

He hesitated before asking his next question. “What happened between you and General Ivan?”

She gaped at him. If someone had yelled at her that way she would have ripped them apart and yet he had apologized to her? She almost wanted to laugh-- why did Nikolai have to make it so simultaneously easy and difficult to fulfill her quest? 

She weighed his question.

He wasn’t mad. Lilyana was saved, at least for now, so she had no reason to tell the truth. She didn’t make a habit of telling every pretty face who asked her tragic past, and it would be so easy to lie. A small voice in her head she didn’t recognize made her hesitate, though. She didn’t owe him the truth, but maybe he’d proved he’d earned part of it. 

Zoya sighed and allowed her hands to relax, crescent shaped marks indented in her palms. “I mentioned that I had practiced warfare as a way to secure my future, but that’s only the start. The army only accepts men applicants, but I was fourteen and naive. I thought if I could impress the superiors enough they’d make an exception.” 

She paused to examine his expression. Nikolai was frowning but their was no pity in it, so she continued. “When I arrived, I was ready. I watched a few men demonstrate before me and my conviction was solidified. I was way better than all those klutzes combined,” he raised an eyebrow and she produced a weak smirk. “Trust me. I was. From there it went how you’d expect. They wouldn’t even give me a sword to demonstrate with, but I was stubborn.” 

“Ah, so you’ve always been like this?” he teased, lightly. 

“Tread lightly, Prince. Don’t forget you made the mistake of arming me,” she warned. Then, returning to her explanation: “Ivan ordered me to leave. I refused.”

She gritted her teeth. “And then he proceeded to make a fool of me. Laughed in my face and insulted my pride. I have regretted how I handled the situation every day since. I should have stolen the sword from his waist and seen how well he fared against some ‘incompetent girl.’ Instead I left like a coward.”

Her throat went dry at the thought of what came next and she decided she’d gifted him enough for one day. “My treatment of you today was uncalled for, but I will not make the same mistake twice. You don’t need to support me in that choice, but I’d request you keep in mind it is my decision to make. I won’t surrender again.”

She stared down those hazel eyes and waited for questions, because Nikolai  _ always  _ had questions. In the lighting, she couldn’t deny he looked good. His cheeks were still flushed from their duel and a few strands of his usually perfect hair had fallen out of arrangement, hanging loose in front of his eyes. A pulse of heat washed through the back of her neck.

To her surprise, he did not ask questions. “I will be sure to remember that in the future. I’m going to bring up your treatment with my father and see what I can do-- Ivan’s actions were unacceptable. And, Zoya?”

She raised her brows. “Yes?”

“Thank you,” he said, “for trusting with this.”

For reasons she did not want to investigate at the moment, she found herself at a loss for words. Awkwardly, she forced out a reply. “You’re welcome. And thank you as well, for the sword, I mean. It’s perfect.”

And there it was, back, again, that signature Nikolai grin that sent her chest palpitating with its arrival. “I’m glad you like it. I can’t think of a better person to trust my newest invention to. The metal is the first of its kind-- David and I working for ages on lighter material that remains as durable as steel. It’s nice to know the sleepless nights paid off.”

There was no time to process all of that. Nikolai was moving on before she had the chance to catch up. “I hate to leave you so abruptly, but there’s more to attend to today and I couldn’t ask you to sit through hours of dull formalities with me. Take the remainder of the day off.” He took her hand and his and, with his usual level of dramatics, kissed the back of it in farewell. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. 

Before she could argue, or even say goodbye, he was gone. 

Later that night, after spending the rest of the day distracting herself with Genya, she found she was no longer able to rid herself of her thoughts. She looked at the back of her hand, the one he had taken earlier. The tan skin was unmarked but she felt as if it burned where his lips had made contact. 

She threw her head back in silent frustration.  _ Zoya you idiot,  _ she chastised herself. How long had it been since she’d given up on fantasies like fairies who granted wishes and charming princes who came to common girls’ rescue? And now, out of nowhere, she was lying awake, unable to rid those hazel eyes from her mind. 

Reluctantly, she pulled her eyes from her hand to her wrist and pulled back her sleeve. Her arm was covered in black writing. Some was her own while the rest was in a now familiar print. Every night, she updated the Darkling on her relationship with Nikolai. Every night he responded that it wasn’t yet time to act and that she should keep trying to get closer to him. 

Pained, she grabbed the pen and gave her daily report.  _ I believe I have earned his full trust _ , she wrote, and the ink burned a bit more than it had before. The response was quick as ever, but she already knew what it would say. Keep working. He’d tell her when it was time to act. 

Except it didn’t say that. Instead it read:  _ Perfect. Prepare yourself. The end is in sight. _

For a moment she could only stare in disbelief and dread. Why did it have to be Nikolai, one of the few good men she’d met in this Saint’s forsaken country? Why was the only way to save her aunt to put a knife in the back of one of the first real friends she’d ever had? 

Zoya had believed that if she worked with the Darkling to make Ravka a better place she could atone for killing Nikolai. Now, she saw that Nikolai  _ was  _ the future. The country needed to see what a caring, hardworking, merciful leader looked like. She couldn’t provide that and neither could the Darkling. 

She didn’t want power in the way the Darkling offered it; she wanted Nikolai alive and well, leading his people into a new age. But even if Zoya wouldn’t murder him for herself, there was still Lilyana to consider. After all her aunt had done for her, she couldn’t let her die. She couldn’t deprive Lada of a mother because of her cowardice. 

She tugged the fabric back down over the writing, shut her eyes tightly and tried to clear her head of Nikolai’s kindness. There was no point in dwelling on it and she needed sleep. 

Hours later, well into the night, she was still dwelling anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favorite parts to write so I hope you enjoy! Thanks again for reading :)


	5. Past Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Near death experiences are a good time

The following morning Zoya found that Nikolai would be busy with meetings long into the day, and really, she wasn’t complaining. The ink on her arm still panged with a dull burning sensation and though they had cleared up the argument from the day before, she found his warmth much more difficult to face. 

  


She was in desperate need of a distraction. She would usually turn to Tamar and Tolya to clear her head with sparring,but to her dismay, the twins had the day off and were long gone by the time she went looking. When that plan fell through, she decided to join Genya in her duties. 

  


On paper, Genya was the queen’s personal assistant. She dressed her, did her hair for formal events, and was always on call during an “emergency.” This title really didn’t do her justice, though. The only reason the palace functioned the way it did was because Genya had a hand in just about everything. Each order had their own rankings, but it was Genya everyone seemed to turn to when they were in need of instructions. Currently, she was getting things in order for next week’s ball. Zoya had been so caught up with Nikolai and his plots she had nearly forgotten about the approaching event. 

  


Every weekend it seemed there was another party to waste taxpayer money on, but the Lunar Ball was a staple of intercontinental diplomacy for the Lantsov family.

“The winter solstice is always a busy time of year,” Genya had explained in between shouting instructions at the staff tasked with cleaning the ballroom. “The Lunar Ball is one of the biggest annual events the palace puts on-- even Shu and Fjerda continue to attend to uphold tradition.”

  


Vaguely, Zoya recalled the news she’d heard about the ball in years prior. Commoners didn’t attend royal events, but the gossip spread like a weed. The Lunar Ball was always a source of political tension. Almost every country sent a representative out of respect for the event, whether the nation was on good terms with Ravka or not. It was a little daunting to think she would be in the palace when so many world leaders were attending. 

  


“I’m surprised you forgot,” said Genya with a quirk of auburn eyebrows. “You’ve started your fittings, haven’t you?”

  


Zoya narrowed her eyes, not following. “My fittings for what?”

  


“Your dress for the ball. Or I suppose your suit if that’s more your style.”

  


“Why would I need a dress?,” she answered, now thoroughly lost. “ Am I expected to make an appearance? I didn’t even realize the staff could attend.”

  


Genya seemed to be just as confused as Zoya. She tore her eyes from the preparations she was managing for the first time since they’d began talking to give the conversation her full attention. “You aren’t expected to, but--” she paused, and then started again. “Staff members are allowed to attend upon invitation and I suppose I just figured you had gotten one by now.”

  


Zoya made a face. “Why would I have been invited?”

  


“Well David mentioned he’d gotten his and I’m sure Tamar and Tolya had invites before they left since Tamar mentioned bringing Nadia as a plus one, and-- oh.”

  


Genya stopped mid sentence, lips clamped shut like she’d just let something slip she shouldn’t have. Trying to gloss it over, she turned to one of Materialki hanging a banner with the Lantsov family crest. “The fabric is still dragging on the floor-- Bring it a bit higher before you secure it.”

  


Zoya, however, was not one to let things slide. She took in the double headed eagle, a symbol she’d seen Nikolai wear on a multitude of occasions now. “Genya, why did you think I was going to get an invitation?”

  


Genya glanced back at her, shifting uncomfortably. “Just forget I said anything.”

  


“I’m not a child. You won’t hurt my feelings,” Zoya assured her. 

  


The redhead sighed, but gave in. “I just assumed that, if Nikolai had given invitations to David and the twins, he would have given you one as well. I shouldn’t have said anything. Really, I’m sure it isn’t personal--”

  


Zoya cut off her rambling. “There's no need to come up with excuses for him. I’ve only known him a week. I wouldn’t have expected him to ask me to attend even if I’d known he could. Besides, I’ve got more important things to do than act as the prince’s entertainment.”

  


She tried to ignore the pang that went through her.  _ Quit being ridiculous,  _ she scolded herself, but it did nothing to make the disappointment subside.

  


Genya’s didn’t seem completely cured of guilt, but her face softened. “If it's any consolation, I’ve left at least thirty hints about attending together and David hasn’t even looked my direction. I shouldn’t be surprised-- he does this every year-- but sometimes I just want to punch some common sense into that thick skull of his.”

  


Zoya cracked a grin. “He could probably use that. Would you like me to give it a try?”

  


“Not quite yet. Maybe if he does this again next year, though..”

  


“I’ll hold you to that.”

  


Genya laughed, and though Zoya still felt a bit betrayed by Nikolai, discussions of beating some manners into David did wonders for her attitude.

  


\---

  


Later, after Genya had been called to the Queen’s side and Nikolai was still nowhere to be found, Zoya found herself with an unscheduled day off. Time seemed to pass agonizingly slow as she searched for things to do. She accompanied David for an hour or so as he worked on the light contraptions from the mountain, but she found that she shared none of Genya’s fascination with his work ethic. Deciding she would rather be bored elsewhere, she returned to her room and practiced a few of her less polished sword drills. It was tedious work, but time consuming, so she assumed it would have to do. 

  


There were multiple occasions throughout the night when she considered looking for Nikolai. She wasn’t sure what she planned to do when she got there-- the part of her still irritated about being left out of his special invite group thought maybe she’d confront him. In the end though, she always talked herself out of it before she arrived at his quarters. It wasn’t like she could scold him for not inviting a woman he barely knew to a dance she’d probably hate anyways. 

  


It made no sense to be so upset over attending a ball with hundreds of pompous men and women she didn’t know. It was a completely irrational anger, and yet she couldn’t be rid of it. Was it her attitude that dissuaded him? Her background? Or maybe he was trying to avoid the whispers that came with inviting a Suli companion to such a high class event.

  


Even after the sun had long since set, she found herself restless. She scarfed down her dinner with barely two words to any of the other staff and walked straight past her rooms instead of retiring for the night. Eventually she found herself wandering again, pacing the lengths of the palace and occasionally drawing uncomfortably near Nikolai’s room without realizing she’d done so.

  


She had no idea what time it was now, though she was sure most of the palace’s residents had long since fallen asleep. It hardly mattered; it wasn’t like she’d be getting any rest tonight with her mind in this state. 

  


She spotted the moon outside of one of the second floor windows and paused her stride for a moment. With closed eyes she rubbed her temples and let out a long breath.  _ What has gotten into you, Zoya?  _

  


With her back was pressed up against the cool stone wall of the passageway, a part of her thought she might just stay there forever, alone in the silent night. Things were much less complicated that way. 

  


Her fantasy was shattered when a sharp pressure found its way up against her windpipe. 

  


Her eyes flew open and she was met with the sight of a man she recognized as one of the archers from the day before. He was pale, shaking with rage or maybe fear, and holding a knife to her throat.

  


She cursed herself for not hearing his footsteps approach. Had she not been caught by surprise she would have easily been able to disarm him. He was in such a sad state it would have been almost simple. 

  


As she was now, however, even the smallest movement would be a risk. He had the advantage.

  


“You’ll pay for your disrespect!” he said. His voice wavered with each word, terrified either of her or himself or both. He was young, younger than she was. A part of her pitied his poor brainwashed soul. 

  


The other part of her was pissed. 

  


“Forgive me if I don’t shake with fear,” she deadpanned. The blade at her throat inched closer and she choked out a strained cough.  _ Maybe not the best time for sarcasm.  _

  


“You won’t get away with it. I’ll- I’ll kill you here, for the honor of the Ravkan first army,” he stammered. Then, when she didn’t show the proper amount of terror: “I’ll do it, I will!”

  


Zoya couldn’t tell if his insistence to tell her he was serious was more of an indication of overcompensation or impulsive panic. She didn’t particularly want to find out. 

  


“Put the knife down. Your going to get yourself thrown in prison for first degree murder,” she replied, speaking calmly. 

  


A hand came down on her face and she flinched forward into the blade at the impact. She felt the metal cut into her skin as warm blood began to trickle down her throat. Her cheek throbbed and her vision spun, the hand he’d struck her with seemed to wane and split into multiple reflections of itself before coming back together. For being as scared as he was, he carried quite the punch. 

  


“Shut up!” he yelled, “Just be quiet!” 

  


Considering she was still trying to get her mind in order, she didn’t think she could have said anything if she wanted to. Looking like he might just lose his dinner, the boy cut deeper into her skin, slowly, reluctantly, but following through all the same. 

  


He really did have it in him, then? It was almost funny. She never thought she’d die at the hand of a fifteen year old, and yet here she was. Her breathing was becoming more shallow, it wouldn’t be long now until the blade reached her esophagus and cut off her air supply for good-- 

  


And then, suddenly, the pressure was gone. Her eyes searched frantically for an explanation, but she could barely think of anything past getting air back into her lungs. Vaguely, she saw that the boy was on the ground, his knife beside him, coated in her blood. Then there was that familiar blonde hair and hazel eyes, more panicked than she’d ever seen them before. 

  


Nikolai held his sword in hand, though it was obvious he’d struck with the hilt instead of the blade. His eyes were locked on her, frantic.

  


Eventually, he spoke, his tone soft but strong. “Are you alright?”

  


Her instinct was to say yes, but as she lifted her fingers to her throat and saw they were coated in blood when she pulled her hand away she couldn’t help but hesitate. It had been a close call. 

  


“I’m fine,” she said finally. “I should take care of this, though. There are bandages in my room.”

  


Nikolai shook his head. “My room is closer. Besides I don’t want you passing out on the way back. Come on.”

  


And in any other situation she would have argued, but she was tired and bleeding and if she was entirely honest she’d missed the idiot all day. So, she followed, and took his arm for support when he offered it to her.

  


Before they left, she spared one last look at her attacker. “What about…”

  


“I’ll let one of the guards know where he is,” finished Nikolai. She chewed her lip.

  


“Don’t arrest him,” she instructed, hoping he wouldn’t mistake her mercy for forgiveness. “He’s young and stupid but it’s all he knows. Just keep him removed from the army for a while. The distance will be good for him.”

  


A weak smile spread over Nikolai’s face. “Still giving out orders in the middle of bleeding out. Classic.” 

  


They arrived at his room not long after. He opened the door and she was surprised to see just how close she’d wandered to it again.

  


He left her sitting on the foot of his bed as she got blood all over the priceless linens. When Nikolai returned he held white bandages and a dampened cloth. She tried to care for her wounds herself-- she was fully capable of handling an injury-- but he was relentless and her usual pride had been replaced by exhaustion. 

  


She tipped her chin upwards so he could easily reach the cut. His hands were precise and gentler than she’d expected. Much gentler than she would have been with herself, and though his timidness was a bit irritating it was also, a comfort. 

  


The coolness of the fabric on her neck stung for a moment and she had to fight a wince, but soon enough the dried blood had been cleaned off and he could bandage the wound without worrying of infection. Zoya tried to ignore how close he was as he wrapped the white cotton around her neck, scarred fingertips grazing her skin and his face inching closer in his concentration. His gaze was locked on his work, but she had no such luxury. Her eyes trailed the curve of his jaw and the faded line that cut through his eyebrow. 

  


She was still looking when Nikolai finally finished and angled his face upwards to meet her eyes. A momentary expression of surprise flashed over his features at their proximity but he was quick to recover. 

  


She felt a decade pass in a single moment, sitting like that, anticipating something but she wasn’t sure what. Then, Nikolai cleared his throat and the magic shattered. “It should heal, but there’s going to be a nasty scar.”

  


Zoya shrugged and immediately regretted moving. The pain was more prevalent now that the adrenaline had left her. “I have plenty of scars worse than this.”

  


Talking hurt, too, but she wouldn’t resign herself to being mute. She was worried Nikolai would tell her to rest and leave her. She couldn’t have slept if she wanted to-- her mind was still racing and… she didn’t want to be alone.

  


But Nikolai had that way of reading minds that, although she didn’t understand it, she was thankful for. He leaned back, sitting in a wooden chair by the bed, but he stayed. “I wouldn’t have thought you made a habit of losing fights,” he prompted. 

  


“I don’t,” she began. Then, when he didn’t stop her, she continued: “I told you about my failed attempt to join the army, but I didn’t tell you what came next. Many people join the military to escape a worse fate-- poverty, illness, past mistakes. The whole industry of war is built on children trying to run away from their problems. I tried my luck at it too, but I ended up right where I started, and when I got there the problem I had attempted to escape was waiting.” 

  


She didn’t know what possessed her to answer the way she did. Maybe she just wanted to keep the conversation going. Maybe she’d lost enough blood to make her overshare. Or perhaps it was the way Nikolai looked at her, that gaze that said he, for one, would not use her words against her-- that gaze that said he’d listen. More likely than not it was a bit of all three, but whatever her reasons, she said what she said, and it couldn’t be taken back. 

  


Strangest of all was that she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. 

  


So, she went on, and as she told her story, Nikolai intently listened:

  


In many ways Zoya Nazayalensky was a side character in the tale of Sabina Garrin.

  


Sabina had not always been bitter and cruel, but for Zoya that had been the only Sabina she’d ever known. Zoya could recall fleeting moments of kindness, when her mother, she assumed, saw more of herself in her daughter than she could stand. In those moments she’d hold her close, the way other mothers held their kin and they would be a family.

  


And yet, all the same, iIt was a useless effort in the end. The world had damaged Sabina Garrin. She tried her best with the absentee husband, the money that ran out, the sister who patronized her, and the child she never wanted, but in the end she was only human. She could only take so much. 

  


Maybe Zoya should have been more sympathetic, but her circumstances weren’t an apology for the marks left on Zoya’s wrists when she walked too slowly or the nights spent terrified in the woods, unable to return until she had collected enough firewood to please her mother. 

Zoya would never forgive her for not holding out a bit longer, if not for herself then for Zoya. But the past was out of her control. The only option was to change the future.

  


So, young as she was, Zoya devised a plan to escape through the Ravkan militia. She’d been so short sided back then, so convinced it would work that she hadn’t even considered the consequences. 

  


She didn’t think Sabina would be waiting for her when she came home a failure, but Sabina was unobservant, not stupid. The door to her childhood home shut with a dull click and there her mother stood, livid. 

  


“So,” she spat, looking at the bags Zoya had packed for her new life “the ungrateful rat planned to leave her own mother destitute, then?”

  


Zoya had wanted to inform her mother that they’d been destitute before she’d tried to leave, but she wasn’t given the chance. It was probably for the best, too. 

  


Sabina was more enraged than she’d ever seen her, but Zoya was tired to sense the danger. “I should have gotten rid of you the day you were born. I should have suffocated you with the same blanket the damned nurse swaddled you in. But I suppose all that doesn’t matter now.”

  


Zoya expected Sabina to scream or lock her in her room for a few days-- she was prepared for that. She wasn’t prepared for the eerie calm her mother addressed her with now. That was the first warning. 

  


“I’ll leave you with a bit of parting advice, from cursed mother to cursed child: it’s never too late to fix your mistakes, Zoya. You want to leave so bad? Fine.”

  


The life of Sabina Garrin had been a downward spiral, and yet, to Zoya’s astonishment, her mother had still been  _ trying  _ in her own, broken way. Or, at least, she’d been trying before this latest betrayal; this was the last straw. 

  


“They play a pretty penny for young ladies over the border, and I’ve done you the kindness of arranging for your journey.”

  


She glanced up at Nikolai, trying to read his thoughts.

  


“I should have ran then and there,” said Zoya. “I’ve always been fast, I could have made it out, but I suppose I didn’t fully understand what was happening. Before I knew it, my mother was a bit less destitute and I was a little less free.” 

  


She shifted in her seat, moving a few strands of hair from her eyes as she tried to recall exactly what happened next. It was a blur, and she wasn’t even one hundred percent sure what was truth and what was something she’d dreamt up. “Men I don’t remember the faces of dragged me away. I think I fought back but I was fourteen and outnumbered.”

  


Nikolai swallowed. He didn’t seem surprised, but that didn’t make it easier to listen to, or, really, to tell. “Most girls who fall victim to the slave trade never make it out,” he stated. It was a known fact, disgusting as it was. She already knew what was coming next but she waited for him to ask anyway. “So how is it you got away?”

  


All she could so was reply with honesty.

  


“I can’t say for sure,” she answered. “I was tied up a majority of the time and I was heavily policed otherwise. My best guess is that I got lucky. I caught one of my handlers off guard in half way through the forest and somehow I was able to slip away, but not before they left their mark.”

  


One of the men had pulled a knife on her as she ran. Thankfully, she’d been far enough away that it hadn’t been dire, but it had left quite the scar down her back.

  


“I don’t remember how I found my way out of the woods, but I was alive, so I went to stay with--”

  


Her voice faltered, and Nikolai seemed to search her for explanation. “My aunt,” she forced out. “I stayed with my Aunt Lilyana until I got back on my feet and set out for the capital. Been here ever since.”

  


Suddenly, she felt much less talkative.

  


Before Nikolai could inquire further, she changed to topic. “Well there’s my tragic backstory. What about you? What are your princely woes?”

  


Nikolai got the hint, and shrugged. “Other than being cursed at birth things haven’t been very exciting.”

  


She snorted. Leave it to Nikolai to crack a joke after all that.

  


Except Nikolai wasn’t laughing.

  


“It’s quite shocking, I’m sure, given how incredibly handsome and intelligent I seem,” he said, leaving time for Zoya’s scoff, “but the old man was a bit irritated when I came out looking nothing like him. We used to have a witch on staff, before he lost whatever mind he had to begin with. He thought if he could get rid of me my father would be so pleased he’d get a promotion. Unfortunately the curse didn’t actually take me out. Instead, it just ensured my failure in… well, everything.”

  
  


Zoya shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Her mind wandered back to that day on the mountain when his experiment had failed. She remembered, now, the rumors of the prince’s broken off engagement. When she’d met him he hadn’t possessed the usual self pity of a man left at the altar. She had to wonder… had he expected it?

  


Nikolai tried to produce a smile, but there was no real joy in it. A part of her was glad he didn’t feel the need to feign nonchalance completely when they were in private. She imagined he’d had plenty of practice in that. “Don’t look so glum, dear Zoya. There are worse fates. I could have been born without my good looks.”

  


“Are you sure a lack of humility wasn’t included in the terms of your curse?,” she teased, though her tone lacked its usual sharpness. 

  


Nikolai laughed. “You hurt me,” he said, dramatically clutching a hand to his chest. 

  


Then, after a beat: “It’s odd how those things work. One moment can change the course of your life forever. You can dedicate years to defining yourself but you can’t change the past.”

  


Zoya understood that more than she’d like to admit. Her life had been filled with those moments. A father chooses not to come home, a mother decides to stop trying. A healthy aunt falls ill and an idiot girl makes a deal with the devil. 

  


If it wasn’t such a complete waste of her time she might have wondered what life would have been if she could go back and undo those life altering lapses in time. If she could maybe she wouldn’t be in this situation.

  


She felt the obligation to ask, although every thought in her mind screamed she wouldn’t like the answer. “You loved her, then? Alina, I mean.”

  


Nikolai was distant when he answered. “Honestly? I’m not sure. Alina was… brilliant. I thought I loved her, I'm positive of that, but ever since she left Os Alta I find myself missing my friend rather than my fiance.”

  


Zoya was only partially able to hide her surprise. Nikolai continued, “It was always a temporary arrangement-- she agreed to play the part of my beloved only until David and I could find a way to undo the curse. My father has threatened to marry me off to the Shu princess Ehri if I cannot find a suitable wife within the confines of Ravka and I just thought, if I had more time, I might be able to beat the system.”

  


His smile was sad now. “No luck, of course, and I couldn’t hold her here forever. I told her to call it off and she did. Now all that’s left is to wait for my father to find the first wealthy woman who crosses his path. If I’m not mistaken, he plans to introduce us at the Lunar Ball.”

  


Zoya’s head spun with the new information, putting a battle strategy together before she could even realize how absurd it was. “Why not bring your own date? There are plenty of women in this city who would kill to be the arm candy of royalty. You can buy yourself more time.”

  


Nikolai shook his head, as if the thought had already crossed his mind. “He’ll know I’m stalling if I bring a stranger. I thought that there might be… never mind it.”

  


“What?” she demanded, her mouth pulling into a line. She didn’t appreciate being left in the dark. 

  


He sighed, looking sheepish as he answered. “I had thought there might be someone believable enough, but I won’t drag them into this.”

  


“And why on earth not? You’re being ridiculous-- why sign your marriage certificate when there’s still another way?”

  


“She doesn’t need the extra stress.”

  


“Give me a name and I’ll be sure she’s feeling  _ plenty  _ of extra pressure, I promise you that.”

  


“Zoya--”

  


“I want a name, Nikolai.”

  


“Just drop it.”

  


“Not until I am given a reasonable explanation why. I have yet to hear a single sensible thing on the matter!”

  


“I won’t--”

  


“Nikolai Lantsov, give me a damn name!”

  


“Fine!” he yielded, voice raised in frustration, “It’s you, Zoya. I was going to invite you today but decided against it. You have plenty to deal with already and I refuse to add to your worries.”

  


Her mouth hung open. Whatever she had expected, that wasn’t it. She took a beat to compose herself before answering. “I need you to listen to what I’m about to say and make sure it finds a way through that thick skull of your’s: I can take care of myself. It’s not your job to protect me— if I don’t want to do something, I won’t. So get me a saints forsaken invitation or I’ll pummel you.”

  


Nikolai was silent, and she thought, maybe, she had overstepped her position. Then he burst out laughing, that awful, sunshine filled laugh that made her heart swell to think she was the cause of. 

  


She didn’t understand it. How could this man, fated to tragedy in more ways than one, still have a joy about him like the embodiment of a star taken from the sky. Zoya was bitter and cold, and she wasn’t ashamed of it. A healthy dose of cynicism was vital to survival. But Nikolai? He’d seen cruelty first hand, and he’d taken his anguish and turned it into passion. He saw the world as a block of clay waiting for his artist’s hand. It made her want to linger in that overbearing hope for as long as she could, in the hopes that some of it might just soak into her. 

  


“I’ll have your invitation ready by morning, then,” he assured her. Then softer: “And Zoya? Thank you. Really.”

  


She felt her face warm and let out a huff. “Don’t get used to it.”

  


They spoke in that way for hours. Her throat burned but she pressed on, until, finally, exhaustion consumed them both.

  


In the morning, when she woke, she still felt bruised and battered but the pain had dulled. Nikolai was still fast asleep in the same chair he’d sat in while bandaging her cut. The early morning light shined through the lapses in the room’s curtains, falling on his golden hair like liquid sun. An eyelash had fallen while he slept and now rested on his cheek. 

  


Zoya ripped her gaze away before she could reach to brush the lash from his face. With her mind clear and unmuddled from a good night’s rest, she felt a sense of dread tug in her stomach as she remembered the events of the earlier evening. She couldn’t help but feel as if she was in too deep already. What would a night pretending to love him do to her? At this point, would it still be pretending at all?

  


These concerns were nothing in comparison to what came next. 

  


Worries were forgotten as quickly as they had arrived at the sight of her forearm, bare from where her sleeve rolled upwards as she slept. Black ink scrawled down her skin, like a monstrous disease from deep within her veins. She had forgotten her daily report during the chaos, but her counterpart in the woods had not been so irresponsible. 

  


_ The time to act is now. The Lunar Ball is under a week away. Find a way in and put an end to the prince of Ravka. _

  


Zoya could hardly breath. Find a way in, he’d said. As if Nikolai hadn’t just gifted her an invitation to the party where she would drive a knife into his heart. 

  


The world was a blur. She left Nikolai, still fast asleep. He would be confused when he woke alone, but as Zoya’s footsteps echoed on the marble palace floors she didn’t think about the boy she had left behind. All she could think of was the sight of black words engraved in her flesh, and that same boy, dead in her arms, just a few days ahead of her.


	6. The Lunar Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shits really hittin the fan now yall,,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read this chapter it is important to know that I took the creative liberty of writing Zoya as Suli on both her father and her mother's side. By extention, Lilyana is also Suli in this piece. Thanks to @koelsong for helping me do the representation justice :)
> 
> Vocab:  
> Lehenga: "The Lehenga Choli, also known as Lehnga, is a three-piece attire comprising the lehenga, a long Indian skirt worn by Indian women across India. Secured at the waist with the mid-riff left bare, lehenga is usually worn on ceremonial occasions, festivals and weddings." (Definition from https://www.utsavpedia.com/attires/indian-lehenga-choli/)

Without really thinking about it, she found her way into the palace garden. She’d discovered, through much trial and error, that there were two things that could calm her when her mind was troubled. The first involved a sword in one hand and a few hours of drills to perfect her technique. It was her more frequent indulgence. The second, was a last resort in the form of a memory. 

Lilyana had been the one to introduce Zoya to the healing powers of nature. She’d been upset after one of Sabina’s outbursts and no matter how much she hacked away at logs with her little training sword, she could not rid herself of her anxieties. Her aunt, who’d visited Pachina frequently, had insisted she take a break and walk with her through the garden. Zoya had tried to find a way out of it, but Lilyana insisted, dragging her along and not saying a word. In that calm silence she was able to find peace.

When they finally returned home Zoya had found her fears not forgotten, but settled, and when it came to Sabina that was all she could ask.

The palace’s flowerbeds were much more extravagant than anything she’d seen back in Pachina, but in the end, plants were plants. She passed a bush of roses and took in their scent, one deep breath in and then out. She wasn't sure if she was technically allowed to pick the blooms of royalty, but since no one was around to see her she did it anyway. Holding the rose’s spiked stem between her finger she traced the design of it blood red petals with her eyes. 

It had been a good week. She hadn’t been hungry or disrespected or ignored. She knew the palace staff and it’s prince better than any of her acquaintances back in Os Alta, but as her horrible mother had always said, good never lasts. She’d made a choice and she was bound to her word. Whatever she felt for the people here, whatever she felt for Nikolai, it didn’t  _ matter.  _ She had a responsibility to the aunt who’d done everything short of birth her and the cousin who was now facing the loss of another mother. 

She had read the story of the poor servant who wooed the prince, but Zoya was no kind maiden. She was the stepsister who cut her heel off just for a chance to get ahead. She was the child who learned the sword in secret for a chance to escape her fate, only to be laughed back into the grasp of her villain. But she had not been beaten then and she would not be beaten now. 

She would keep fighting, and she’d make her every breath worth it by ensuring young girls like her cousin a better fate.

Her grip on the rose tightened until a bead of blood trailed down the curve of her thumb.  _ The good never lasts,  _ that was one of the lessons she’d begrudgingly learned from the cruel bite of her mother's throat. Contentedness was a trap and love a lie. Unless she intended to end up broken like the woman who birthed her it would do Zoya well to remember that.

Survival was earned through the swift path of knives. 

Fate could put her into the fairy tale if it wished, but she would not willingly follow it to it’s tragic end. 

It wasn’t a satisfying conclusion, but it was the only one to be made. Nikolai and his unyielding optimism was a price she would have to pay. She allowed the flower to slip from her grasp, its stem stained with her blood. If she’d been born a poet maybe she would have found something tragically beautiful in that image, but she’d never had the imagination for all that. Her will was strong, finally. There was nothing else she needed of the garden.

As she made her exit she noted the snap of the abandoned rose beneath her feet. 

\---

The week went by quicker than she would have liked. At first, she still spent much of her days at Nikolai’s side, but as the Lunar Ball approached he found himself more and more caught up in princely responsibilities. The distance was a blessing in and of itself. She found it was easier to keep her head when her heart wasn’t doing somersaults with his every look in her direction.

She would have spent her free moments assisting Genya in her preparations, but oddly enough she was more scarce than their blonde prince. She was constantly in and out of the castle on last minute orders from the king and queen. Zoya wasn’t even positive she slept. Throughout her own fitful nights she only occasionally found Genya stuffed into her cot. 

For the sake of her health, Zoya hoped she was awarded a few days off when all this was through.

It seemed Nikolai had sent word that she would be attending as his guest almost immediately after she’d agreed, because not even a day later a dressmaker had found her in her room and insisted she be allowed to take measurements. The girl seemed less than pleased to have been assigned the task on such short notice, but Zoya hardly had the patience to care. There were more pressing issues to attend to.

As for her attempted murderer, Nikolai, of course, had made time to take care of him as well. She could only imagine how many late nights he’d had to pull to fit into his schedule, and, in the end, decided she was better off not knowing. The boy had been sent on an indefinite leave from the military. A few palace employees had accompanied him back to his parent’s farm. From what she’d heard, he’d taken well to the fresh air and, as a whole, was much more stable. 

She still would have returned that hit to the face if given the chance, but… she had to admit she was relieved. The sentimental part of her just kept coming back to the knowledge he and Lada were nearly the same age, and not everyone could have a cousin as wonderful as Zoya to teach them when it was and wasn’t acceptable to commit homicide. 

Her conversations with the Darkling were never extensive, but as the ball approached their exchanges became even more scarce. Zoya, for one, was alright with that. Her earlier excitement at a new age for Ravka was long gone. Now she found herself hoping she’d never have to come back to this damned city again when all was said and done.

But she still had work to do for now. The days flew by and she found her own will was the only thing telling her to stay strong through her doubts. Cruel Zoya, cold Zoya-- how hard was adding killer Zoya to the list? 

She sharpened her knife and hardened her heart. 

And then the Lunar Ball was upon her, like the shadow of death itself. 

She spent the morning in her room. Genya, once again, was nowhere to be found, so she decided to dedicate herself to a bit of busywork. 

Zoya had never been particularly popular. This meant it was difficult to find people to be her pen pal, but she’d always had a fondness for writing letters. Some of them were never even sent, but she supposed she liked the idea they could be read, if she wished it. She directed almost all of them at Lilyana. She’d confide in her aunt of the nightmares she still had of lonely nights in the woods or how frustrating it was to find herself wallowing in loneliness like a child even now. She threw all of them away when they were complete, of course, but it was nice to share her secrets with something, even if it was just a piece of paper.

She wrote one of her letters to Lilyana today as well, but she addressed this one. This was a note meant to be read. The words came easily, as they always did when she wrote to her aunt. There was no need for all the gruesome details-- she just needed to provide both her and Lada a bit of context. 

_ Lilyana,  _

_ My dear Aunt, I hope that when you read this your health has indeed taken a turn for the better. I know your illness must have been difficult for both you and Lada. I should have been there, and though no apology will make up for my lack of communication, I will say this:  _

_ I have done what was needed to ensure you are taken care of, and I intend to join you both again soon. I promise I will explain more when we meet again in person, but, for now, know that I love you both. Better days are coming.  _

_ Sincerely, Zoya _

When it was finished she placed the sealed letter on the desk to mail later. The thought of them, alone, with death so close now, was enough to solidify her conviction. She didn’t know what they would say when they heard what she’d done. She wouldn’t blame Lilyana for banning a killer from her home, but none of that mattered. Lada would have her mother. Lilyana, warm and loving, would be safe. 

Holding that knowledge close to her heart, she lifted her quill again and put another piece of paper in front of her on the rickety table. This one would not be read. There would never be a chance, and yet, a second explanation was owed, and she would not be able to think clearly tonight if she didn’t give it now. 

She took a deep breath and began to write.

_ Nikolai, _

_ By now, you are dead by my hand. You will hate me, I am sure of it, but I offer you the truth anyway. It will have to be enough.  _

_ As you know, my mother was a cruel woman. What you don’t know is that her sister, Lilyana Garin, was kind. More kind than I can ever hope to copy. She saved me on many occasions, not just when she took me in at fourteen, but each time she traveled from her own home to protect me from her sister’s cruelties. In short, I owe her a life debt many times over.  _

_ So, when she fell ill, I was given a choice: her life or your’s. It isn’t an easy responsibility, but it is one that I cannot possibly deny. _

_ Currently, we are on even ground. I saved your life in the mountains when we first met. In return, you stopped my throat from being cut. I’m sorry to upset the balance in this way. _

_ If it’s worth anything, I wish things could have been different. You were a good man. You gave me your trust, and now I rightfully return it. I will not deny the role of the antagonist in this tale. _

_ Expecting a few well deserved complaints from beyond the grave, _

_ Zoya Nazyalensky _

And that was that. There was nothing else to say. 

A knock at her door startled Zoya from her desk and she shoved the letter into the wastebasket beside her. Without waiting for an invitation, the haughty dressmaker from before entered. 

“It’s complete,” she said, laying a blue gown on her bed, “Just in time, too. You’ll still want to try it on, though, just to be sure.”

It was a traditional Suli gown, unlike anything she’d seen from Ravkan fashion trends. The skirt was full, marked with silver embroidery that resembled stars in the night sky. A length of sheer fabric meant to be thrown over her shoulder shimmered in the light. The top of the ensemble was separate, made from a more simplistic navy blue fabric. Jewels had been sewn into the front while the back remained almost entirely open. 

She hadn’t worn anything like it since she was very young. Certainly not since her escape from her captors in the woods, which became increasingly move evident as she turned and was met with the sight of scarred tissue decorating her spine. The marks they had left on her did not escape the dressmaker’s attention and, perhaps for the first time since they’d met, the woman seemed a bit ashamed. 

“Ah,” she began, “I didn’t know about… I can adjust the draping to cover more. It will only take a few minutes.”

Zoya examined the dress, her gaze lingering. A strange sense of pride filled her as she thought of Lilyana, who had made Zoya’s first lehenga for her fourteenth birthday. It felt like a reminder of where she came from and that she was a survivor.

“No,” Zoya waved the seamstress off. “I like it the way it is.”

“Are you… positive?” The woman looked more than a little doubtful. 

“Absolutely. Now leave me be— I have things to prepare before the ball and no time to waste.” 

She obeyed, seemingly a bit irritated but not going to argue further. Zoya took the time left to accessorize. She chose a shining headpiece to compliment the dress’s embroidery and matching earrings. She slipped on an elegant pair of shoes that wouldn’t be too uncomfortable after a long night and strapped a knife to her ankle to slaughter her date later that night. All of a lady’s essentials. 

The sun sank lower and lower on the horizon until finally, the moment of truth was before her. The closer she came to the grand hall the louder the palace became. By the time the party was in sight the sound of pretentious upper class chatter already rattled around in her head. A guard stood at the door and she produced the invitation Nikolai had given to her. The Darkling was right about one thing, at least: committing treason was much easier with the crown’s trust on her side. Part of her wished the guard would argue, perhaps challenge the legitimacy of the invite, but he simply glanced at the parchment and nodded. It was all so simple. 

Inside, a quartet played upbeat but rather unexciting music, though it was nearly drowned out by the socializing of the guests. She recognized some of the people attending-- she’d seen many Ravkan nobles around the castle, though she’d never attempted to hold a conversation-- but a majority of the faces were new to her. She saw what she assumed to be the Kerch Merchant Council standing in a group away from the rest of the party. The advocates for Shu royalty were stationed near the King’s throne, along with a woman who was probably princess Ehri, who had nearly been Nikolai’s date.

Unsurprisingly, there were very few Suli representatives. The Suli were more nomadic than other nations and had long been ignored by the more pronounced governments. If Zoya had been shy, she might have felt out of place on account of her attire, but she held her head high. Her people would be seen whether Ravka wished to look or not. 

She searched the crowd for people she knew. Though she thought she saw glimpses of red hair flashing through the crowd, she couldn’t catch sight of Genya. It wasn’t necessarily a surprise but she’d hoped to have one last conversation with her before the night was over. They’d become close in the last weeks, and though Zoya feared she’d miss many things about the life she’d built here, the pang in her chest when she thought of never seeing Genya again was nearly all consuming.

It wasn’t worth dwelling on. She eventually crossed paths with Tolya, whose looming, tattooed figure had a way of sticking out in a crowd. He smiled at her, respectfully, as his eyes met hers. “It seems you transition better from soldier to nobility than I,” he commented. 

Zoya laughed. “That’s only the case before they hear my many, many opinions. Where are the rest of the misfits, anyway?”

“Tamar is entertaining her date,” Tolya explained, gesturing at his sister and a blonde girl Zoya recognized as Nadia, “David is moping by the horderves, and Nikolai has yet to escape his diplomatic duties. If I recall correctly, you were his exit strategy.”

Zoya’s gaze fell the the back of the room where the king and queen were seated side by side. She imagined that Nikolai was trapped somewhere within the mob of guests trying to get their chance to make a good impression on royalty. “Of course I am,” she deadpanned. “I suppose I should put him out of his misery, then.”

“You’re quite the knight in shining armor, Zoya.”

She shot him a look. “I think I liked you better when you were silent.”

He laughed and allowed her to embark on her rescue mission. Zoya had to force her way through the crowd, receiving dagger-like glares and underhanded comments on her way over. She ignored them as she searched for a familiar face in the chaos.

And then she saw him, pristine as ever, in a white suit decorated with badges for a variety of accomplishments and the Ravkan crest. She’d never seen Nikolai look  _ bad  _ but his attire now seemed to put all past appearances to shame. 

He looked like all of the was easy as breathing, so fluid in his every movement, but she knew better than to believe it. Beneath that charismatic composure was the boy she knew-- the one who might combust if he wasn’t presented with a legitimately challenging conversation soon.

Looking at him made her nauseous, but she buried the feeling. Not even a minute after she spotted him, his eyes fell on her. There was a softness in his expression, a kind of awe or pride when he looked at her. It would have been enough to make any foolish girls heart melt. 

He stopped mid-sentence and, to the dismay of the two girls he’d been entertaining, made a straight line toward her. 

She tried to fake normalcy. “Having fun with your other dates?”

“You look incredible,” was his reply. Saints, he wasn’t making this easy. The unhampered joy on his face made her feel a bit like she could fix the world by hand. A warmth flooded her face. 

“Yes, yes, no need to drool over me.”

He feigned hurt. “What? Not even a ‘thanks’ or ‘you too’? I would have expected more from my partner tonight.”

“You would have been sorely disappointed.”

He shrugged. “I suppose so.” Then, offering her an arm: “Shall we go somewhere less congested?”

Zoya glanced around at the faces of people much, much richer than her. “Won’t your friends miss you?”

“They’ll find something else to entertain them,” he waved the concern aside. “Follow me.”

He waded through the crowd with ease, although she didn’t know if it was because people made room for him or because he’d had plenty of practice paving the way through masses of people. Whatever the case, Zoya was happy to no longer have greasy nobles’ breath on her neck. She wished she could say pompous assholes were the only cause of her anxiety. 

“I met Ehri earlier, lovely woman, definitely wants to see my mouth sewn shut one of these days,” Nikolai began again when Zoya offered no attempt to fill the silence. “You two would get along.”

Zoya forced a response. “Is that so?”

Nikolai nodded. “It’s obvious we’re both receiving pressure to unite the countries, but she seems about as interested as I am. A dysfunctional marriage won't fix anything and yet I’m struggling to find an approach that would produce improvements--” he trailed off and raised an inquisitive eyebrow in her direction. “Zoya?”

It was about this time that Zoya usually offered her militaristic approach to a problem. For example, the Shu dilemma was at a standstill because neither side had a reason to trust the other. If Ravka suggested an alliance against a common enemy, however, that would benefit both parties-- perhaps a united front against the Fjerdan threat-- there would be more encouragement for communication. But the gears in Zoya’s mind were not focused on the Shu-Ravkan alliance. The Lantsov line wouldn’t even get to attempt it if the Darkling’s plan went through. 

And it would, Zoya would make sure of it. 

“Zoya,” Nikolai asked again, “Are you alright?”

Zoya was pulled from her thoughts. “I’m fine.”

Nikolai wasn’t convinced. If she was in his shoes, she would have been suspicious, too. She had to do something to throw him off her trail, a distraction or change of subject, anything--

“I should have warned you all of this,” said Nikolai, unprompted. He gestured around them with a tilt of his head and, for the first time that night, Zoya noticed that it wasn’t just Nikolai in the spotlight. 

_ Of course _ , she thought. She knew how people loved to gossip. The moment she accepted Nikolai’s invitation she had volunteered for the role of mystery girl, and now he thought she was having second thoughts. 

She could use that. 

“I’ll be ok,” she assured him. “It’s just overwhelming.”

Really, she couldn’t care less about the attention. She’d spent so long in the dark with so much to say and no one to listen… it was refreshing to have people looking at her for once. A platform was an opportunity to change things. She could disparage the military, criticize the nation’s treatment of their poor, or demand acknowledgement for her people and, in this moment, they would all listen. But if Nikolai wanted to blame her odd behavior on the wandering eyes of the other guests, she’d be a fool to pass it up. 

Nikolai frowned, but nodded. “They’ll bore of us eventually. For now, lets just try to enjoy ourselves.”

He led her to the center of the room where the music played. Dozens of pairs moved with the beat, flowing in one united body of flashy fabrics and heavy cologne. In front of her, Nikolai grinned like a fox and extended a hand. “Care to dance?”

Part of her thought to mention that she didn’t know any of the steps. Pachina education had barely taught her how to read. Dancing really wasn’t at the top of the list of priorities. But they had to pass the time somehow, and this was as good a way as any. Besides, Nikolai was rich. Surely he’d wasted plenty of his youth learning useless skills like this, so as long as she let him lead she was sure she’d learn quickly. 

Really, how different could it be from sparring. 

She took his hand and raised a brow, the challenge accepted. 

It took about three seconds to realize that dancing was  _ very  _ different from sparring. First of all, she was the aggressor when they fought, which was a difficult habit to break. Without thinking, she moved first. Unfortunately, Nikolai moved at the exact same moment, resulting in an awkward power struggle and a few tread on feet. 

Zoya cursed internally. She tried to feel the beat of the music and waited for Nikolai to direct her before following suit. Her skirt seemed to flow like a navy ocean with every twist and turn, and the metal of her jewelry was cool against her warming skin. When she seemed to get the hang of the basics, Nikolai upped the difficulty, baiting her on, and she was more than happy to oblige. Their steps became quicker, and she stared him down, in smug concentration, daring him to underestimate her. Sweat gathered on her skin and adrenaline pulsed through her skin. 

Everyone else fell away except her blonde partner in crime. 

Nikolai’s smile was wide, the genuine kind of smile she saw when life threw a whole new twist at him. Zoya flourished under that smile, like a flower in the sun. It told her to push a little bit farther, risk a little bit more for a chance to be the cause of that grin.

Flashes of the stationary world flew by, but they were moving too fast now. She couldn’t distinguish faces from pillars from walls.

She could have stayed in that moment forever. 

But she knew better than that, didn’t she?  _ The good never lasts.  _

Nikolai raised his arm, and with her hand in his, she was quick to follow. It was a single breath; less than that, really. Her exposed skin flashed by, her eyes were drawn away from Nikolai’s face. The black ink of one, lonely word carved itself into her mind in a split second and, even when it was gone, she could still see the shape of the letters on her flesh clear as day. 

It pounded at the walls of her mind, shattering every false idea of happiness and sending the glass shards straight into her heart. One word, and she was destroyed. 

_ Now.  _

The song wasn’t over, but Zoya stopped in her tracks before she could think better of it. Nikolai’s face was a flurry of confusion and concern. His questions felt hollow in her mind. “Are you ok? Is something wrong? Are you ill?”

_ Be calm, Zoya,  _ she chastised herself,  _ it’s time to act.  _ She allowed her instincts to take over, partly because she trusted her gut, but more than anything it was because she knew her mind would betray her if she allowed it to run free. 

“I think I pulled a muscle,” she explained. “I think I’ll go sit down outside for a bit, just to be sure it’s nothing serious.”

Nikolai was already moving, pulling her to the outskirts of the room with that gentleness he was so skilled in. “Of course. I’ll accompany you, just to be safe.”

She nodded in agreement, but there had never been a moment she had doubted he would come. Zoya knew his kindness well. And now she would use it against him. 

The gardens were quiet that evening, abandoned by everything but a cool night breeze. The silence hung over her like molasses. 

Upon their arrival, Nikolai had helped her to a bench, where she pretended massage her thigh. Nikolai, always a gentleman, had turned away while she lifted her skirt. Zoya was not a prude, and he’d seen her in less, but she was glad he did so. Without his prying eyes, she could take her knife from its sheath. 

She could feel the weapon in her hand now, hidden behind her back, her grip so tight she could feel every curve imprinting on her skin. Nikolai was right in front of her, unarmed. One quick movement and he’d be dead, and yet she sat, frozen in time.

“Is there anything I can do?” Nikolai asked, and if it had been anyone else Zoya would have thought his worry was a joke. But she knew him. Every inch of his kindness was true.

If she missed a vital organ, his death would be slow, painful, and cruel. She would have to watch him bleed out, still conscious enough to wonder why she’d done it. If that happened did she attack again to put him out of his misery? Or would she falter in the face of dismantling her friend like a pincushion? 

No, she couldn’t risk that. The only option was to not miss. 

“Zoya?” he asked again. Her silence only caused more concern to enter his voice and it felt as if it might tear her apart. 

“I’ll be alright.”

He was quiet for a few beats before gaining the confidence to say what he was thinking. “I don’t mean to overstep, but,” he paused looking to her for a signal to stop and found nothing, “did something happen?”

“You just haven’t seemed like yourself tonight and I suppose… Well I just want you to know that if it was something I did, it wasn’t my intent to make you uncomfortable. If you let me know what’s gone wrong I’ll do what I can to amend the situation--”

“What?” Zoya laughed, more out of surprise than anything. “I’ve barely seen you all week, Nikolai. What could  _ you  _ have possibly done?”

He swallowed, nervous. It was a look she didn’t recognize on him. He inched closer and sat down beside her. She shifted to cover the knife. “I told you before about the curse,” he began, not meeting her eyes. “I don’t know everything about it’s functions, but it seems to be that the more I care for something the worse my luck becomes. When that something is a someone often times it isn’t me whose affected, though.”

Something rose in her gut as Nikolai continued, “My childhood friend, Dominik, was shot in battle. Alina had plenty of near death experiences when she was still in town. David has nearly blown himself up in a freak accident on more occasions than can be labeled as a coincidence. Tolya was almost mauled by a mountain lion, and you--”

He took in a shaky breath, as if the words were a secret he’d been carrying for… who knew how long? Maybe birth. “We cut it so close that evening you were assaulted. If I had been a second later you would be dead. I try to keep a safe distance, put enough barriers between me and others that I don’t get them killed, but I’ve been sloppy, because… Well, never mind it. The point is I owe you an apology.”

“Nikolai…” she began, voice soft, but stopped short. She’d never been good at comforting others and she couldn’t stand the idea of saying the wrong thing. What could she even say? How could she explain to him that this was not his guilt to bear without sacrificing her aunt?

She didn’t know the answer, but she couldn’t do nothing, not when he was so vulnerable in the pale light of the moon, trusting her with everything. So, while she couldn’t be sure she was right, she waded through the masses of things to say to him, and hoped fate might aid her, just this once.

“I have been outrunning destruction since the day I was born. If anything, the odds have turned in my favor since I met you. No one has ever been quite as willing to watch my back. If anything, 

I should be thanking you.”

A silence stretched between them and his eyes studied her. Perhaps he could see right into her heart and knew everything: that he had trusted the wrong person and gave his kindness away to someone undeserving. Someone who would use it to carve a hole in his chest. 

She was suffocating, waiting for him to answer. He knew, he had to know. Why else would he be looking at her like that? She’d been caught before she’d even committed the crime. Any second now, he’d call for guards to arrest her. She’d be dragged away in chains-- 

Nikolai leaned toward her, a hand lifting to cup her cheek, and his eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his lips to her’s. Her worries disappeared as soon as he made contact.

It was such a soft action, filled with more care than she’d ever been treated with before. She could feel his eyelashes brush her cheek and the warmth of his fingertips on her skin. She’d been kissed before, wanted more times than that, but still this seemed unreal. The sun could choose from millions of flowers when it wished to share its light, and yet he’d picked a rose, riddled in thorns. 

It was everything she’d ever dreamed of as a child and now, if she had ever doubted it before, she knew that her past self had been a fool. 

Her eyes pricked as she moved the knife from her back to just above his. This was her chance. This was how she repaid her debt to the aunt who had saved her life. This was how she showed her strength. Time was slipping away, as soon as he pulled away it’d be too late-- Lilyana would die as a result of her cowardice. 

_ Do it already, you idiot,  _ she screamed in her mind. A life for a life. She couldn't let her feelings for him get in the way.

But her mind filled with doubts anyway. What happened when Nikolai died? He was the only person in the palace with a shot at making the country better. Vasily was just like his father, and David and the twins didn’t carry enough power to cause wide-scale change. 

Even if the Darkling was able to secure control, how did she know he would be any better than every other power hungry man who aspired for the throne? He was a killer. There was nothing stopping him from killing again.

Who was she to choose her aunt over the future of her country? Lilyana… she would have traded places with her a thousand times, but killing Nikolai? She’d doom the nation. 

No matter what she chose, she became the villain. She orphaned her cousin or handed the throne to a tyrant. Two evils, but the decision was hers. It was enough to make anyone want to crumble into dust, but she was Zoya Nazyalensky, and Zoya Nazyalensky took her punishments with her head held high. She wouldn’t lie down and cry. 

_ Choose a sin, but do it with pride,  _ she thought. 

The moment the knife fell from her hand, she could feel the change. The clatter of the blade against a cobblestone path marked the end of Lilyana Garrin. 

Zoya would never forgive herself for what she’d done. She would no longer be able to see her own reflection without feeling an overwhelming sense of disgust.

Nikolai had pulled away from her, startled by the sound, but Zoya was a million galaxies away.

He was putting the pieces together, realizing how close he’d been to death, but if he said anything Zoya didn’t hear it. Her entire body convulsed, flooded with grief and rage and sorrow. The tears flowed freely now, filled with venomous self hatred. In her mind a silent message played over and over again, and hoped that just maybe, the dying woman miles away could hear her: _ “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” _

Even as she fell apart under Nikolai’s betrayed gaze, she did not regret her choice. 

Saint’s let it be the lesser evil. 

She didn’t know exactly what would have happened if they had been given more time. Maybe Nikolai would have demanded an explanation. Maybe he would have had her arrested on the spot. If she really wanted to pretend, maybe he would have understood.

But Zoya never got the chance to find out. Not two minutes afters she’d decided to let Nikolai live, frantic noise erupted from the party inside. People flooded into the gardens, most of them ignoring the scene she was causing entirely. It was impossible to distinguish familiar features among the horrified, at least, it was until Tolya found them.

He stared at Nikolai, jaw tight. “You’re father. He’s dead.”


	7. Imprisoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions are high with the squad smh

The cells of the Os Alta prison were about as comfortable as one could expect. It was cold, and she’d been offered no change of clothes since the night before. Her dress was stained with dirt and wrinkled beyond recognition, which felt like an utter waste, but she supposed there were more important things to worry about. 

As far as the palace was concerned, the evil had been vanquished. That was the easy choice, after all. It felt much safer to believe that the threat came in the form of two girls, so battered by the world they’d been desperate enough to kill. Two girls were easier to fight off than the monster that lived in the woods. 

When Zoya had been arrested, not long after Tolya’s arrival, her partner in crime was already awaiting her. At least they already knew they could share a room. 

Genya Safin, pale and missing any sort of life in her expression, had been thrown behind bars immediately after she’d slipped a deadly dosage of poison into the King of Ravka’s drink. 

Zoya had questions, but her concern for the time being was far more focused on the note that appeared on her skin not even an hour into her captivity. 

_ By nightfall tomorrow Ravka will have a new king.  _

She had screamed for someone to listen to her warnings, but none of the people within earshot had taken her seriously. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the bars of her cell. She had to find a way to make sure Lilyana’s death wouldn’t be for nothing, but she was useless locked up. 

The storm in her mind had almost made her forget about her company entirely, but the illusion was shattered when Genya spoke. It was the first thing she’d said since Zoya had arrived. 

“He promised me no one else would be hurt,” she began, looking a thousand miles away from the present.

“Ah, well, I guess strange men who live alone in the woods aren’t always the most trustworthy people,” Zoya bit back, although she struggled to tell if her frustration was with Genya or herself. 

“You don’t understand, I  _ knew  _ him. For years he said we’d make things better-- all it would cost was the King’s life and that, that wasn’t an enormous sacrifice anyway… He never said Nikolai would be hurt,” she shook her head, and Zoya was reminded that Genya had been his friend, too. “The king was a bad man, Zoya. I wouldn’t have gone along with it if that wasn’t true.”

There was a strain on the ginger’s face that proved the statement. Zoya had been lucky enough to never have a conversation with the man, but if he was anything like Vasily… she could only imagine the kind of suffering he caused. Genya had been so close to the king and queen. Perhaps she’d been naive and trusted the wrong person, but who could blame her?

Well, aside from the Ravkan justice system.

“You don’t need to plead your case to me,” Zoya said, waving a hand through the air. “I’m locked up here, too.”

There was no time to unlock Genya’s every motivation. For Zoya, it was enough to know she had done it of moral intentions. That was more than she could say for herself most days. 

“We could still stop him,” Genya asserted, unprovoked. “If his plan is to kill the princes and take the throne for himself, then we still have time to prepare.”

“A lot of good that will do us stuck down here.”

The cells around them were empty and the halls were quiet. They were alone and even if someone had been nearby Zoya doubted they would listen. 

Genya looked at her sheepishly. “I may have a way to fix that.”

She reached into the pockets of her skirt and when her hand came back into sight there was a grey powder in her palm. It appeared completely harmless, at least, until it hit the metal bars of the cell. As soon as the dust hit steel it began to steam and rust, turning brown and weak. Without thinking, Zoya took a step back. She didn’t want to see what that stuff could do to her.

After a few moments the reaction slowed and Genya raised a foot and kicked the flaking brown bars. They disintegrated under her touch like sand. 

“What in the  _ Saints  _ is that?” Zoya demanded, incredulous.

Genya smiled slightly. “A mix of science and magic. I picked up a few things from the Darkling, I suppose.”

Zoya had plenty more questions but pushed them aside for future consideration. There were larger dangers looming over them, and the morning was almost gone. They needed to warn Nikolai, but it would be impossible to find him without getting caught. Zoya needed  _ time  _ to put together a plan, but that was the exact resource she was shortest on.

She followed Genya through the hole in the cell and dusted her dress off. Step one would be to find them something more inconspicuous to wear. 

“You know this place like the back of your hand, right? Got any ideas how we can stay undetected until we can get someone to listen?” Zoya questioned.

Genya’s eyes were trained on something behind her when she answered. “It… might be a bit too late for that.”

Zoya spun around to find what Genya was staring at and was met with a familiar sight that put a pang through her chest. Honey blonde hair and tired eyes, more tired than she’d ever seen them, greeted her vision. Nikolai was in the dungeons and his hand rested on the hilt of his blade. 

His stare was cold enough to make her believe he might strike, too. 

With her country on the line, however, that was a risk she was willing to take. She didn’t know what he wanted and she didn’t give him the chance to ask. “Nikolai, whatever dramatic confrontation you have planned it will have to wait. War is going to be at our doorstep in a matter of hours.”

He didn’t budge. If anything, she saw his grip on his sword tighten. “I don’t make a habit of taking foreign policy advice from failed assassins.”

Zoya swallowed. She couldn’t think of an apology that wouldn’t sound hollow. She was reminded, then, of what had taken place between them before she’d tried to kill him. He really did have bad luck with romance. 

As she searched for the right words Nikolai pulled a couple of papers from his pockets. She recognized them immediately as the letters she’d written before the ball. For a moment, her anger flared at him for reading through her private correspondences, but then again, one of them had been addressed to him in the first place. 

He set his jaw. “I want to know what this means.”

“It’s a long story and I won’t waste time,” she retorted.

“Then I see nothing to do but find a guard to introduce you both to your new cell.”

Zoya was about to respond, but Genya beat her to it. 

“Nikolai you know as well that your bloodline is not filled with angels. You’re ancestors have preyed upon the suffering for centuries and I’m sorry that you were an innocent victim of our attempt to fight back, but you can’t pretend like you’re shocked. We were desperate for hope and it made us blind.

“None of that matters now, though. The divide between you’re family and the people has empowered a monster we will have to work together to defeat. Hate us if you like but don’t put the country on the line. If he was able to manipulate Zoya and I then I’m sure weaker willed people have fallen behind him, too.”

Zoya watched with anxious anticipation, waiting for Nikolai to snap at Genya, but though his gaze was fixed on his father’s killer he said nothing. Genya stood strong in her conviction. 

Finally, Nikolai managed a response. “Who is ‘he’?”

“He’s gone by a lot of names. Zoya knows him as the Darkling, but when I met him he still worked at the palace. Do you remember the Black Heretic, Nikolai?” 

The shock that rippled over Nikolai’s expression seemed to say “ _ how could I forget?”  _ For just a beat his eyes flicked back to meet Zoya’s. “He was the witch we employed. Specialized in illusion magic and… curses. I thought he went mad, but...”

Genya shook her head as Zoya put the pieces together. Nikolai and the curse that doomed him to unhappiness— he’d said it had been the result of a misunderstanding, but if the Darkling was to blame then perhaps this plan had been in the works long before Genya and Zoya were involved. 

“He’s a powerful man and he knows how to use people. He promises people's safety, but he lies. He doesn’t truly care for us,” Genya finished.

Zoya thought of Lilyana. “The ability to save lives is very tempting.”

Genya’s eyes met Zoya’s with something she couldn’t read before she turned back to Nikolai. The room was silent, awaiting his decision. 

His hazel eyes glinted with something just a bit too exhausted to be called mischief. “Well, if he’s taken so much time to prepare then lets try to give him a challenge.

***

An air of fragile trust hung over Nikolai’s room. After sneaking Genya and herself into the palace Nikolai had gathered a team of familiar faces to aid them in the upcoming battle.

Tolya, Tamar, and David stood before them, each regarding the two escaped prisoners with a mix of disdain and hurt. Tolya was stone faced while Tamar looked a few moments away from unsheathing her axes. David’s face was contorted in a manner that made Zoya wonder if she was going to be sick.

“Nikolai, they better start explaining  _ right now  _ if they don’t want one of my blades at their throats,” asserted Tamar, breaking the heavy silence.

Zoya looked to Nikolai in the hopes he might defend them, but he didn’t even offer a look in their direction. Why would he? There temporary truce was on the basis that there was a greater evil before them, nothing more. She had tried to kill him. Whatever trust he’d had for her, whatever feelings… they were surely gone now. 

“I’ll do you one better,” answered Nikolai. “I’ll tell you who sent them.”

“Everyone in this room is familiar with the Black Heretic. He is responsible for the curse David and I have unsuccessfully worked for years to break. I had been under the impression he’d gone insane not long after my birth, but it seems he is more capable than I ever gave him credit for. His work here-- my curse, the king’s assassination, and the failed attempt on my life-- were all pieces of a much larger plot to take control of Ravka. He plans to make his final strike against the crown at nightfall.”

Jaws hung around the room and they were once again enveloped in silence. Although Nikolai spoke with hardened authority, Zoya’s chest ached as he spoke. An invisible villain had haunted his youth and now he would have to face him not even twenty-four hours since his father’s death and her betrayal. 

This time, it was Tolya who spoke first. “How do you know all of this?”

Nikolai’s gaze went towards Genya and her for the first time since they’d left the dungeons. 

“This has been the Darkling’s plan for as long as I’ve known him, and I have known him many, many years,” Genya said. She was calm while she spoke, but there was a tiredness in her tone. “Between Zoya and myself we should have enough information on him to put up a fight.”

David moved towards her but stopped. “Genya, why…”

Tamar cut in before any of them could hear whether or not he planned to finish: “And why would we trust you now?”

Zoya expected Genya to respond to her demand, but the ginger’s confidence seemed to crumble under David’s questioning gaze. Zoya spared her the pressure of an answer.

“Because none of you are willing to take the risk not to. Whatever you feel towards us, we have sacrificed plenty to be here because we care about this country, and so do you. My Aunt will die as a result of the choices I have made. I won’t let it be for nothing.”

Finally, no one could argue. Tensions were still high, Zoya could tell, but their priorities all aligned: save the country first, mend hurt feelings later.

Nikolai cleared his throat and the rooms attention was on him once again. “As we learned last night, we don’t know who we can rely on. Even if I had control over the army, it’d be a mistake to involve so many people. That means the people in this room will be our battalion. With Genya’s information on what the Heretic has planned, David’s quick thinking, the Twin’s agility, and Zoya’s strategy I have full reason to believe we have a chance.”

There was an unspoken statement that followed this remark and all of them knew it. There was a chance, yes, but it was slim. Nikolai was allowing his troops the option to back out now, but none of them would. After he’d waited long enough for any objections, he nodded and continued. 

“We have less than twelve hours to come up with a plan and do everything needed before the attack. Let’s get to work. Genya?”

Genya stepped forward with new conviction and, voice filled with unwavering strength, began to share everything she knew of their enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a hot minute since my last update but for once I have a halfway decent excuse. I ended up getting pretty sick at the beginning of the month and it's taken just about all my time to get caught up with all the classes I missed. That said, there are only two more chapters left now, and I plan to get them both published this weekend. 
> 
> Thanks for being patient :) I'll see yall on the other side.


	8. A Blade in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We throwin hands now, boys--

It was a miracle that they were able to clear out the palace before nightfall. It was thanks to Nikolai, really. She didn’t know how he did it, but it seemed his charisma had no limits. 

Removing the nobles still left over from the party was a matter of convincing Ravka’s new king. All Nikolai had to do was mention the possibility they might be questioning Vasily’s ability to rule and the young ruler had challenged all the able men to a gentleman’s game of hunting to prove his authority. The winner was determined by whoever accrued the most kills. Their wives and families were required to watch as Vasily embarked on a heavily rigged victory. Zoya expected they wouldn’t return before the following afternoon. 

After that, he’d given the palace employees the day off to mourn the king’s passing with their family. Guards had been strategically stationed in out of the way reaches of the palace until only the six of them remained. 

The possibility of civilian casualties was as low as they could manage which meant the only thing left to do was wait. They had strategized and invented and prepared all they could. All they could do now was hope.

The throne room was silent except for the sound of their own breath. The sun had long left the sky-- candles around the room were the sole source of light until, suddenly, the light was gone. 

The hair on Zoya’s arm stood on edge as the room went pitch black. She could see nothing, not even Nikolai who’d been directly at her side a moment before. 

The witch had arrived. Zoya took comfort in the weight of the sword in her hand.  _ Her  _ sword.

Nikolai had caught her by the wrist not long before night fell. She couldn’t read his eyes. The compassion that had once resided in his gaze was missing, but his expression was not cold or distant. There was something ablaze within those eyes but she was foreign to whatever language they spoke. 

“You’ll need this tonight,” he’d said, before handing her the blade he’d had designed specifically for her. She’d been under the impression she’d never see its gorgeous metalwork again. 

Zoya had taken it from him with an overflowing sense of relief. She waited for him to say something more, but he was silent. 

“Well then,” he said, after a moment, “There’s still plenty to do.”

As he turned to leave she wasn’t entirely sure what her plan had been, she just knew the conversation wasn’t over. “Nikolai, wait--”

He did. Another silence encompassed them both and she realized he was expecting her to speak. It was ironic really. The one time someone wanted to listen, she had nothing to say. 

“I won’t ask your forgiveness, but my feelings towards you weren’t an act. Do with that information what you will but… you had a right to know before we meet our fate.”

She had left him after that. Now they stood before that very fate, together. Zoya hoped they survived this battle. She wanted to hear his answer. 

The first blazing flash of light shot overhead like a piece of the sun. Her eyes studied the now bright room as she established the target. The Darkling stood near the entrance of the building, surrounded by a monstrous army of taloned creatures of darkness. They shrieked at the light, but the firework wasn’t nearly bright enough to do anything but agitate them. 

Genya had warned them of his creations, but they were still shockingly disgusting in person. As the last whispers of the exploding light hung over head Zoya met the eyes of her fellow soldiers. The twins had each taken to the outskirts of the throne room while she and Nikolai occupied the center. 

Out of sight, she knew Genya and David were already preparing to launch the next firework. With the help of Genya’s knowledge of magic they had been able to perfect Nikolai’s image just in time. If the Darkling wished to use their blindness to his advantage he would be in for a surprise. 

Across the room, the Darkling grinned. Zoya lunged with Nikolai and the twins in unison. 

Zoya’s limbs worked faster than her mind, finding the shadows of the Darking’s army beneath the sporadic lights firing from above and avoiding attacks just in time. 

She fought side by side with Nikolai, striking down attackers that emerged in his blind spot and him doing the same for her. When one monster fell it felt that another one only emerged to replace it. They had been prepared for this, though. Tamar and Tolya had been given the task of restricting the constantly regenerating army of beasts. Zoya and Nikolai, on the other hand, only had to strike through enough of them to find the source. 

It was nearly impossible to find The Darkling among the chaos. Zoya thought she spotted flashes of him but by the time she and Nikolai were able to reach where she’d seen him he had already moved on. Their strategy was entirely reliant on a quick victory. They couldn’t outlast an invincible army, but if they were unable to reach the witch that controlled them they would only be wasting valuable time. 

She spotted a flash of pale skin by one of the room’s pillars. “Nikolai, there!” 

The two of them battled through the crowd, leaving a trail of carnage behind as they progressed. When they arrived at the column Zoya was met with the frustratingly familiar sensation of being too late. At this rate, her strategy was bound to fail. They would die here.

She turned to face Nikolai. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Reassurance? A new plan? An escape route? Whatever it was, she knew she didn’t anticipate the mix of anger and fear in his expression. 

He tackled her to the ground before she could figure out what it meant. 

Lodged in the pillar just behind where she had been standing was a single arrow, seeping with a dark substance. She wasn’t sure what it would have done to her if it’d hit, but she knew she didn’t want to find out. 

She scrambled back to her feet and Nikolai followed in suit. Frantically, she searched for the source of the arrow. It didn’t take long to find. 

Directly in sight now, was The Darkling. He held no bow or weapon of any sort, but from what Genya had told her, her didn’t need one. He could create anything out of the darkness. 

If he escaped her vision now she might never find him again. He’d abandoned stealth to set a trap, and she wasn’t going to let the attempt on her life be wasted. She charged.

As soon as she was in range, she unleashed a flurry of attacks on the witch. Out of the nothingness, he produced a blade to block her blows. His speed rivalled her own-- it took all her focus to stay ahead. From somewhere behind her she could hear Nikolai yelling. A new wave of shadow beasts had filled in behind her and he would have to force his way through to reach them. 

That was fine. She could keep him on his toes until the prince arrived. She advanced again with another array of attacks and a sickening grin spread across The Darkling’s face.

“I have to admit, I’m impressed,” he said with such an ease. His breath was even as he spoke, as if this was only a bit of child’s play. For a moment, she feared this was him going easy on her. 

_ Focus, Zoya,  _ she chided herself,  _ He’s trying to unnerve you because you’re doing something right. _

“I’ve known you for many years,” he continued, “but I never expected you to be the righteous type. Must of been the influence of that Aunt of your’s. It certainly wasn’t your mothers doing.”

A chill went through her spine and she nearly lost her footing. “What are you talking about?” she snarled. 

That soul freezing grin widened, stretching from ear to ear. “Surely you remember all those days you spent in the woods as a child. Who do you think kept the wolves back when your mother sentenced you to nights in the forest? And when you escaped those slavers after she cast you out-- do you really know what happened?”

She was slowing pace now, the thoughts in her mind clogging down her body. “No, no, I  _ just  _ met you.”

“Your Aunt seemed like a decent woman, but it was necessary to give you some incentive,” he continued. “Now I see I should have added your cousin as well, since you were so quick to let one family member die. She was quite healthy, really, but it’s nothing a bit of periodical poisoning couldn’t fix. I wonder if she still holding on, or if she is dead in her home as we speak.”

Zoya had questions, so many questions, but her voice wouldn’t work. The Darkling took that moment to shove the hilt of his blade in her gut. 

She was pushed backwards coughing and nearly lost her footing when familiar hands caught her. Her head was still spinning when she met hazel eyes, intense and maybe a bit afraid, but kind. 

“You and me,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s finish this.”

She looked around. Tolya and Tamar were losing ground. They worked through the army, doing everything they could to cut down on the interference to her and Nikolai, but the fight was futile. The intervals in between fireworks were growing longer. Genya and David were rationing before they ran out of supplies. It wouldn’t be long before they were all overrun. 

Zoya nodded at the prince.It was now or never.

They lunged together, as if partners in one synchronized dance. The smile slid from the Darkling’s face as she regained control of her head. The challenge of having to fight off two sources of attacks in unison began to show in his actions, but even with Nikolai’s help he didn’t seem to be at a disadvantage. Even when Nikolai would perfectly align his attacks with hers, he found a way to slip away unscathed. They were running out of time. 

She tried everything in the playbook. She feigned attacks, tried to divide his attention, created openings for Nikolai, but he was always one step ahead. 

“Tamar!” she heard Tolya’s low shout from behind her. She searched the room for the axe-wielding twin and saw her clutching a flesh torn shoulder. One of the creatures had landed a nasty blow.

“I’m fine,” she snapped back, “Don’t get distracted!”

Although the advice was meant for her brother, Zoya also took it. She turned her attention back to her own fight.

It became immediately evident that she’d done so too little too late. 

Zoya’s eyes met The Darkling’s obsidian gaze just as he brought his blade down, slashing towards her chest.

Things moved very quickly after that. She braced herself for impact, trying to raise her blade to block the blow but knowing she’d be too late. 

The clang of metal on metal. Blonde hair, red blood, the sound of a body hitting the floor, and an overwhelming confusion to find the body wasn’t her’s. 

Nikolai was on the ground. Fresh blood was dripping down the side of his face, though it didn’t look like it had been a full on hit. He had to move quick to keep her from being hit, but in his haste he’d been unable to prepare himself for the force of the attack. The flat of his own blade had nearly broken his skull open when it came flying back towards him. 

The Darkling might have tried to finish him off then and there if it weren’t for the sparkling flare that shot between them, forcing him back. Zoya took the time Genya and David had bought her to move Nikolai over to one of the rooms columns. She didn’t have long to make sure he was alright.

He was still conscious, which was a good sign, but by the looks of it he wouldn’t be back on his feet any time soon. There was so much she needed to say. She needed to tell him to keep pressure on the wound, needed to apologize for giving the Darkling an opening like that, needed to assure him she would end this. There were a hundred important words to speak and so little time and yet as she leaned over him, taking his bloodied cheek in her palm, she said none of it. 

Twice now he had saved her life, after she had nearly ended his. “Nikolai…” she choked out, “Why… I don’t understand… ”

The sparks were dulling now and her question trailed off unfinished.

She felt something brush against her hand, still cupping Nikolai’s face. His fingers rested on her’s as he directed a strained smile up at her. “I can’t end this. My curse ensures my failure, but you? You have a chance.”

She shook her head. She was not the heroine of this tale. She was hardly a relevant character even. Nikolai was brave, he was  _ good _ . She wasn’t like him-- she fought for herself and weighed the cost of lives. She’d played the game of choosing who lives and dies. What right did she have to rewrite the story now?

“Besides,” Nikolai continued, “you were always the better swordsman, anyway.”

She wanted to argue, but what was done couldn’t be undone, and the light that had pushed their attacker back was nearly gone now. She swallowed her words, tightened her grip on her blade, and stood over Nikolai where he lied on the floor. 

If The Darkling wished to finish what he’d started he would first have to go through her. 

He lunged at her, the dark weapon in his hand meeting her sword at every turn. The loud clanging of his advance rang through the hollow darkness, and though her arms ached from keeping his attacks from hitting his mark, she did not falter. 

The truth was, she was right. She wasn’t a hero and she had no right to claim that title now after all she’d done, but in the end she didn’t have a choice. In the end, she was nothing more than Zoya Nazayalenskey, but Zoya Nazayalensky just happened to be the only thing standing between a wolf and his prey. For better or for worse, she would have to be enough.

“You’re slowing down, little Zoya,” The Darkling taunted, voice smooth as silk. He was right, too. She was losing her edge over him, and if it came down to a competition of brute strength she was bound to lose. She couldn’t find a flaw in his defense and she couldn’t risk a wrong move-- not with Nikolai’s life on the line. 

She was powerless. Powerless, like she’d been under Sabina’s wrath. Powerless, like she’d been at fourteen, before a cruel general. Powerless, like she’d been chained down by slavers. 

This was it. This was all she had and she was going to fail anyway. A bead of sweat trailed down her face as she willed a silent apology to the prince at her feet. He’d believed in her and she would let him down. 

Then, before she could even understand what was happening, there was a soul ripping cry. The Darkling’s sword fell from his hand and scattered backwards across the floor. Her body moved of its own volition. The tip of her blade met flesh, sinking deep into The Darkling’s gut before she pulled it free. 

His dark eyes widened-- no, eye, singular. Dark red blood soaked the socket where his left eye should have been, though Zoya was positive she’d made no contact with his face during their dual. He staggered backwards, clutching his stomach, but it was no use. He fell to his knees, unable to stand any longer and then, though she had no idea how much time elapsed before it happened, he collapsed. 

The shadow monsters disintegrated and the room’s lights flared back to life. Her sword was coated with blood and she gaped down at the body below her. 

The Darkling, who had the power to create entire armies at will, was dead. All that magic and he’d bled just like anyone else. 

“Zoya,” a weak voice spoke from behind her, breaking her from her trance, “it’s over.”

“Nikolai!” She spun around and fell to the ground, now immensely aware of the injury he had suffered. “I’ll call for a medik, don’t move--”

She motioned to get up and find help but he caught her wrist, sitting up with a grunt of effort. 

“I’ll be alright,” he insisted, “Just… let’s just wait a moment. I want to remember this moment. The Black Heretic is dead and that means my curse… I’m free.”

Reluctantly, Zoya obliged. She studied the room, looking for signs a battle for the well-being of Ravka had ensued, but found nothing. The damage done seemed confined entirely to the people in the room. They were all a bit battered.

Tolya had rushed to Tamar as soon as he could get away, but she’d waved him off, chiding him for his constant worrying. Less than a second later, she engulfed him in a hug.

But they were alive and none of them seemed to be horribly wounded, either. It was more than she could have ever hoped for. She held back a sob of relief. They were alright, somehow, they were ok--

“Someone get a doctor!” the scream rang out from above them, and for a moment she didn’t recognize the voice. She’d never heard so much panic in it, or at the very least, she’d never heard him so loud. “Saints, there’s so much blood. She’s not moving!”

There was no mistaking it. The voice belonged to David. The realization of what that meant felt like the sky was crashing down around her.

Zoya was on her feet, sprinting up the stairs to the balcony before she could even think. The word ripped from her throat like shattered glass: “ _ Genya _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hggggg I'm a clown when it comes to fight scenes but I hope this made for an ok read :) only one chapter left!! Guess I'll die!!!!


	9. Epilogues and Eyepatches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is the end, huh

The day Os Alta lost its light was remembered by the city’s inhabitants as an overwhelming success. A threat that had hung over their country for generations had been defeated thanks to the young prince and his friends. People of all social classes were content with the knowledge that they were safe. 

For the six people who had been on the front line of the battle, though, the events following their victory was a rush of fears as well as joys. Things had moved so quickly-- it was difficult to recall all the details. When Zoya thought back on the aftermath all she could think of was the familiar black quill that had been lodged in Genya’s blood soaked eye socket and the agonizing minutes they’d been forced to wait before a doctor could arrive. 

They’d emptied out the palace to keep the night free of civilian casualties, but as she’d cradled Genya’s unmoving head in her lap Zoya had thought over a thousand other choices they could have made. It was completely irrational-- they had all agreed clearing the castle out was the best option-- but it hardly mattered in the moment. All she cared about was seeing that Genya was alright.

Genya’s quick thinking had been the savior of the day. They had both been gifted a quill when they sealed their fate with the Darkling, but the tie of shared ink went both ways. When Genya had plunged the pen into her own face it had allowed Zoya the opening she needed to end their foe once and for all.

It felt like hours before they received help. The medik insisted on taking her to his lab alone so he could remove the quill and access the damage. He assured them the wound was not fatal, but both David and Zoya refused the leave her side. After plenty of coercing from both the physician and Nikolai, Zoya relented. David was allowed to be in the room with them as long as he stayed quiet. After that, all there was left to do was wait. 

It was hours before they received any news. Nikolai and Tamar were treated for their injuries and Tolya and herself were able to bandage any small cuts they had received. Once that was finished, Nikolai drafted a royal pardon for Genya and herself, saying that their help in the battle against the Darkling was essential and proved their loyalty to Ravka.

None of them slept.

Around sunrise the next morning Nikolai approached her. Sitting next to her in the dorm she and Genya had shared he began, “Once the pardon goes through you’ll be able to stay. We could use a mind like yours, especially with Vasily on the throne. It's only a matter of time before the country grows restless with his laziness and I’ll be able to challenge him for the crown. We could really change things.”

There was something so genuine in his demeanor, so honest. He wasn’t just offering her a home, he was offering her a second chance. She could stay here, in the palace with him. She would keep sparring with the twins each morning. When Genya had recovered they could return to their late night gossiping. With time she could earn back his trust and maybe, if she was particularly lucky, they could return to the question she had cut short on the night of the ball. 

It was everything she’d ever wanted and certainly more than she deserved. 

But she still had a debt to pay and she would not forsake it twice. She shook her head. “I need to return home-- to my Aunt. I wasn’t able to save her and, if she’s still alive, I want to be there for whatever time she has left. After that I’ll take custody of my cousin, Lada. I’ll try to keep the farm functioning so she can inherit it when she's old enough.”

Nikolai’s brows were furrowed, an intense expression taking over his features. He leaned closer and her breath caught in her throat. “Is that what you want?”

Zoya wanted many things. She buried the thought. “It doesn’t matter. I have responsibilities.”

“Zoya--” Nikolai started but was cut off as the door opened. David stood at the entrance of the dorm looking tired but relieved. Both she and Nikolai leapt to their feet. “She’s awake,” he said, “and she wants to see you.” 

David leveled a look at her that sent a chill down her spine. “Well then, I won’t keep her waiting.”

\---

Genya was, indeed, awake when they entered the room. The medik had warned them of the lasting damages before they had entered, but it was still a shock to see it in person. White cloth covered Genya’s right eye and a phantom pang shot through her own face. 

“Genya… I’m sorry about your eye…” she began. Genya raised a hand, signaling her to be silent so she clamped her jaw shut. 

“Last night, during your fight, The Darkling said he poisoned your aunt, correct?” she asked.

Her jaw hung open. She hadn’t realized Genya had heard their conversation, but she nodded in agreement. Genya turned to the bedside table and grabbed a small piece of scratch paper, covered in inked scrawl. 

“David,” she said, turning her attention to the brunette, “Take this and follow the instructions. Work quickly, I don’t know how much time we have.”

He did took the paper without argument and exited the room. “I don’t understand,” Zoya interrupted, “what does any of this have to do with my aunt?”

“The Darkling was not versed in poisons-- not in the way I am. If he used a poison to make your aunt ill then I have reason to believe it was one of mine. I sent David to put together an antidote. I can’t promise it will work, but you may still have a chance to save her.”

Zoya gaped at her ginger friend. There were no words to thank her. Genya had given her hope again-- something she’d believed was gone forever. A weak smile spread across the angel of a woman. “You can thank me later. For now, get ready to leave as soon as possible.”

She turned to Nikolai. Whatever it was he was thinking, she couldn’t read it in his expression. “I have to go,” she said.

He nodded. “I’ll have a horse prepared for you.”

He didn’t arrive to wish her farewell when David had completed the antidote and she didn’t wait to see if he was running late. As the palace grew smaller and smaller in the distance Zoya couldn’t help but feel as if she would not be returning. 

She ached to see Lilyana well again but there was a melancholy in the goodbye she couldn’t shake. All the things she never said festered in her chest and died beneath the open sky.

\---

Almost two weeks had passed since she’d left Os Alta behind, perhaps for good. She’d written over a dozen letters in that time, though she hadn’t actually sent any of them. Four were addressed to Genya, asking how she was, thanking her for the antidote, and wondering if David had finally made his move. A few were for the twins, talking of possible new attack strategies. She’d even written one to David for some reason.

At least half were for Nikolai. They said all kinds of things, some were matters of business, others were more personal, but all of them fell flat of her expectations by the time she was finished. 

News had come only a few days earlier that Ravka had a new king. Allegedly, Nikolai had marched into the throne room and informed Vasily he was being relieved of office. The older brother had put up a fight, but there had been no one to back his argument. Every citizen of Ravka knew who had won the lightless day for their country, and it wasn’t Vasily. Even that idiot of a general had enough common sense not to pick sides. 

Vasily hadn’t shown his face in the capital since. 

It already felt like their lives had diverged on two different paths. Zoya never considered herself one to dwell on unrequited feelings and yet, here she was, slumming around and thinking of how she’d never see him again. It was pitiful but she had no intention of stopping any time soon.

“Zoya?” asked a voice, tearing her from her thoughts. She glanced at the owner of the voice, a young, dark skinned girl Zoya knew well. Lada, her cousin, was looking at her with a questioning look and holding a skinned carrot. “I think you got it.”

Zoya looked down at the once-carrot on her cutting board. Judging by the orange half mush in front of her, she might have gotten a bit carried away with the mincing while she was lost in thought. “What? You don’t want to drink your carrots?” she teased, cracking a half smile.

“I'll stick to milk for my beverage,” Lada deadpanned. 

“Getting smart, are we? Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to pick fights you can’t win? Your Aunt will attest, I am the master of talking back.” Lada laughed in response and Zoya extended a hand. “Pass me that carrot so we can eat lunch before nightfall.”

Her cousin did as she was told and Zoya began cutting the vegetable into bite sized pieces. She was only about half way done when they were interrupted. 

Lilyana stood in the doorway, looking as healthy as Zoya remembered her from her youth. She didn’t think she would ever tire of that sight. “There is a man at the door asking for you,” she said, looking at Zoya, bewildered. 

“Oooo, Zoya you never told me you were being courted,” Lada said. 

Zoya pointed the knife at her. “Now what did I just tell you about starting fights you can’t win.”

“I really don’t think you should keep our guest waiting,” interjected Lilyana.

“Fine, Fine,” she said, placing the knife down on the cutting board. 

She followed Lilyana to the front door, but her Aunt made an escape before she could open the door. 

“What’s spooked her?” she murmured under her breath as she pushed the door outwards. 

Zoya had to do a double take to convince her mind that her eyes weren’t lying. Sure enough, the image before her did not change. Hazel irises met her own and she stood, gaping. 

“Long time no see,” Nikolai said. If she hadn’t known him so well she might not have recognized him. It looked as if he’d stolen some clothes from the nearest scraps pile in an attempt to go unnoticed. She looked around for a glimpse of the guards who should have been following his every step but found no one was there. Not even the familiar faces of the twins could be found. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked incredulously. 

A small, sheepish laugh escaped him. “Honestly? I’m not sure yet.” He shifted in the doorway, uncomfortable. Zoya got the sense this trip hadn’t been planned. “Would you like to take a walk with me?”

She spared a glance back into the house. Lilyana and Lada stood half hidden in the kitchen doorway, waving her on. She shot them a scalding look before directing her attention back at Nikolai. “Lead the way.”

They followed the trail out to the outskirts of the forest. Zoya remembered this path from her childhood. She’d spend hours following the rocky gravel until the sun began to set and it was time to return home. Much had changed since then and, at the same time, nothing had changed at all.

“It seems as if everything worked out ok,” Nikolai began, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have to admit, I’m not all that used to streaks of good luck like this.”

“I suppose so,” she agreed. There was an uncomfortable pause before she continued, “So you’re King, then? Must feel nice.”

“If I’m honest, it doesn’t feel entirely real. It’d be nice if I could leave the capital alone without having to come up with an elaborate string of lies, but it’s been like that all my life.”

“Ah,” she nodded. She knew he was expecting her to say something more, but she wasn’t sure what was appropriate. She still didn’t know why he was here in the first place. 

“Look,” Zoya went on after a brief silence, “I appreciate the visit, but it’s a long way to come to exchange pleasantries. Is there something you need?”

He stopped walking, then, an anxious expression plastered on her face that sparked her own nerves. “Come back to Os Alta with me,” he started, running a flustered hand through his hair, “I know-- I asked you before and you were clear in your answer, but that was before Genya and the antidote. If I don’t ask now, if I don’t at least  _ try _ I think I might regret it for the rest of life.”

“This country could use a mind like yours. I’ve already decided the General needs to be replaced. If you agree, you could fill his position and finally get the military back on track. We miss you.  _ I  _ miss you. It isn’t the same without you.”

Zoya bit her lower lip. It was a nice fantasy, she’d give him that much, but it was impossible. The army would never accept a woman general and she would never belong at the palace as she once had. 

“Nikolai,” she said through a long breath, “You know as well as I do it’s quite a leap to go from not allowing women in the militia to having a woman lead it.”

“It’s the leap we need, though,” he insisted.

“Not to mention a woman who has a bad reputation with them in the first place.”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

“I tried to kill you,” she exclaimed, exasperated. 

Nikolai took a step towards her and matched her intensity. “And then you proceeded to save my life when you took down the Black Heretic.”

“Only after you saved mine  _ twice _ ,” she retorted. “If it’s a competition of good deeds I can assure you you’re in the lead.”

“Then come back and even the playing field!” he snapped. Then, quieter: “Please.”

Zoya sighed and took a step back. It was odd the way fate could put everything she’d ever wanted right in front of her while she still felt as if it was out of reach. She wasn’t even sure why. Of course, it would be a future full of constant struggle, but that was how her entire life had been up to this point. Adversity didn’t scare her. Nothing about what he was offering  _ scared  _ her.

It just felt wrong. Out of place. Incorrect. 

After all that happened, why did she deserve a chance at happiness? These thoughts were not a result of low self esteem or selflessness. She wasn’t nearly that noble. It was simply a result of habit. She’d been taught by her mother since birth that life was unkind to people like her and so she’d lived her life fighting because she  _ knew  _ no one would fight for her. 

No, she was not scared. She was angry. Angry that the Saint’s chose to torment her, breaking her mind and hardening her to the world. She was angry that they gave her compassion now-- as if it had always been possible and yet they’d spent decades withholding it anyway. She was angry that she’d been conditioned so that even when the future was within grasp she felt as if yes wasn’t an option. 

She would be controlled no longer. 

She was done with allowing fate to harass her, even when she'd desperately fought to break free. She was tired of saying no. She deserved this-- not because she was kind or good but because she’d worked day and night to get here. This didn’t happen because the saint’s chose it, it happened because she’d earned it. 

Nikolai was staring at her, awaiting a response. She stared back, absorbing the image of him, determined but afraid she would not budge, jaw set but skin pale. She took in the sight of this well meaning genius who could, at the same time, be the most absurd person she’d ever met. 

His blonde hair shined gold under the sun’s gaze and she knew it was time to say what they’d been too afraid to put to words.

She grabbed a handful of his pitiful excuse for a disguise and pulled him towards her. Slipping her other hand behind his neck, soft hair beneath her fingers, she pressed her lips to his. 

He stiffened but did not pull away. Then, after a moment, he softened beneath her grip, and returned the kiss. 

She didn’t know how much time had elapsed when they separated, just a few inches, but she did know she liked the smile that spread across Nikolai’s face. Her own cheeks hurt with the tension of a similar grin. 

“So,” he said, voice low, “is that a yes?”

She thought of the life in front of her, not just with Nikolai, but with Lilyana and Lada visiting her in Os Alta, of Genya asking her for a second opinion on which eyepatch matched her Kefta, of sparring with the twins. 

“It’s a yes,” she agreed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to Genya, I really put her through it this time, but I'm sure she's still as stylish as ever.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who supported me during the writing of Bleeding Hearts. My gang has all my love for having put up with my half baked first draft and snail pace. Thanks to all of you who read this far-- it's the longest piece I've ever written and while it has plenty of flaws, I'm proud of it all the same. Knowing people liked it enough to stick with it to the end means so much to me. 
> 
> If you have any interest in any of my other works or what I have planned for the future I'd love to hear from you at my tumblr @looking-for-wisdom :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a bunch for reading this far! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter :) Like all pieces for the Big Bang, this fic is complete, so although I have not constructed an update schedule yet I can assure you that the entire story will be posted by the end of January.


End file.
